Driver’s seat
You know your soul is on the driver's seat
when you find yourself hooting at sex positive burlesque women,
sitting in the front row of a storefront in chinatown, stupefied
You know your soul is on the driver's seat
when you find yourself watching a japanese film in an indie cinema
with extra butter in your popcorn, by yourself on a Saturday evening
You know your soul is on the driver's seat
when you spend hours hunting a queer graphic novel
you didn't know you needed and leaving with a gender studies satire comic in your hand, rocking a tote sewn by your grandma
You know your soul is on the driver's seat when the first thing you do when you wake up is make your bed, forget to turn the airplane mode off, and take a moment to appreciate that the universe has offered you yet another day
Because all the soul wants is to express itself,
unleashed from the reins of your mind and establish a connection with its cohabitants
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