cruis’n world

Danielle McMahon

February 26, 2026

on that trip a man stops to watch me
play cruis’n world at the seaside arcade

i’m jamming the steering
heading toward a hairpin

nearly grinding guardrails
on the edge of sixteen

skirting some coastal volcano
in my cherry-red ferrari and

i can feel his gravity like he’s
waiting to catch my eye like

they always do just like
they always start in

with some innocuous flirtation
stained in kingly leer

i am unlicensed
underaged

i am waiting
for the world to reveal itself to me

possessed by the turning of the wheel
the endless blacktop roll

the wind shuffling pixelated palms
in my dreams

i’m dodging car-swipes right and left
i am always just narrowly avoiding disaster though

his teeth follow me now
in the cabinet’s reflection

that strange smile coming in too-too close
to my sunburnt shoulder

and he wants to know
where i’m going

he wants to know
where i’m from

i say
i am waiting

for my uncles to finish paintballing
in the adventure park out back

they are just over there
my many uncles
their many guns

a remark just sarcastic enough
to walk the double yellows between

innocence and gone-to-seed though
nothing really grows seaside

just the harsh wind whooshing
along salting hair

into wild bedroom tousles
just toes edging froth on the shore

and i dunno when it began
perhaps it was here or another
time and space

my own reedy voice
catching on trouble
and stomping down on the gas pedal

the man says
i could be one of those bikini babes

waiting at the finish line
i could bounce up-and-down

and wave a checkered flag
at one dollar per play

i almost smile

i say
the red car is the always fastest

i say
you gotta lean in to the danger
and fight against the curves

i say
the key to first place
is to never even touch the brakes