I made my child there,
in the backseat of his brother’s red van.
too young to be dating, much less having sex
I was an eager rebel,
earnestly seeking out dangers
only he could teach
yearning for emotions only he could evoke.
I was inexperienced, you see,
way too childish to fall in love but determined to nevertheless.
Hours passed and I’ve aged a few years
growing up on back seats and heated hoods
learning the ways of women
and the burdens that they bare…
The indentations of the gear stick permanently
etched into my fifteen year old
evangelical, ace student skin,
who someone wanted to turn out and bring low.
as my haven of leather adjusted back so my legs could spread,
i wondered, if it was worth it…in the end
worth being a statistic
poor, black, teenage single mother,
with no help and no man around.
Was it worth it?
The back seats and cold nights
and watching his love be given to another?