Car

There's four of us in the backseat; our thighs are pressed against each other; there's someone in my lap. My hands are buzzing softly; they remind me of cable without a signal, whirling gray static on the screen; I imagine them humming like bees. I reach out, search for physical contact, something to press my hands against and calm the incessant vibrations of my fingers. I find someone's neck, massage lightly, rest my cheek against her shoulder. She's kissing someone, a boy- I know that he likes me and the knowledge tickles in my chest and makes laughter bubble slowly out of me like a creek tumbling over stones. She looks back, smiles, grabs my head and pulls me towards her.
And we're all kissing now. It's a mess of lips and tongues and spit and none of us know exactly where to lay our attention. The car's swerving a little; I grab onto a knee for support, open my eyes to try to see past the hair that's tangled on my face and pushing up my nose. Headlights pass us and I can see our faces, blurry in the window. I watch myself for awhile and try to wipe the fog from my mind as a car can clear its windshield.