me and my mum
drive alone at night
to go buy nail polish
at the chemist.

she talks and sings
at our red cars
20 year old
built in radio.

i look into my visor mirror
at my eyebags
and listen to her voice
as it fills our silence;
with little input.

as they come and go
the streetlights outside
our misty windows
blur together
into vivid neon icing.

i ask her
as we drive
if we have
crinkle cut salt and vinegar chips
in the pantry at home.

she says she we do;
but she bought thins instead,
‘cause they were
the ones on sale.