Inflatable Doll as Driving Companion
       

No backseat driver, this one's in the front:
Her upbeat plastic buckled in to go
Wherever you go. This blow-up doll is silent,
Offers her support. I sit; therefore I know.

With her, you have your choice of radio station;
With her, you can drive in the special lane.
She nods when you put both the windows down;
She listens, thoughtful, in each conversation.

She doesn't eat much: really not at all.
She doesn't answer e-mail or her iPhone.
Her previous lovers leave the past in Vegas.
Each puff of air produces 3-D's largesse.
Oh, baby, oh, beauty, oh, ideal held in thrall:
You are the air inside my tires, my Firestone.

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Copyright © 2014 Kim Bridgford All rights reserved
from Doll
Main Street Rag
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission