The Student Literary Journal of Vermont State University

I’m sixteen and don’t scrape
the frost from my windows
before barreling through gray-
hazed cornfields down the highway
to school while the winter sun sticks
its cold bright head over the horizon.
This is the winter I learn to create slow
motion in real time by sliding my car
into the sides of other cars; the same
winter I let a boy climb on top of me
in the parking lot of a local university.
Dan doesn’t take right turns at red lights
because he’s cautious in his mom’s
white minivan. This is the winter my mom
peers into the darkened basement,
where Dan’s wrapped one arm
scandalously around my shoulder,
and she calls me upstairs to tell me
leave room for the holy spirit
which is less funny because
she means it. This is the winter
I know I’m using Dan, know I should
say something before he tries to get me
to steam up his windshield, but this
is also the winter I need to pretend
I don’t care about the other boys
who like me with the lights off,
who only date girls, and only text me
when they’re lonely. This is the winter
we all crash our cars because the roads
keep freezing, melting, re-freezing again.