“Think like a man when behind the wheel.
You gotta make snap decisions, have nerves of steel,
Know what’s under the hood, know how to get gas,
Then after you park, be however you feel.”
This he says to me, seeing that I’m a young lass,
Assuming right away that I’ve nerves of glass,
For one simple question, he considers me weak,
And I burn, remembering how twice I didn’t pass.
He filled up my tank, wouldn’t let me speak,
Treated me like I was submissive and weak,
But how nice, he believes I can “think like a man.”
I can change genders like clothes, so things aren’t so bleak.
All I can say is, I do what I can.
And I will grow stronger, or that’s what I plan.
In me, there’s more that God has yet to reveal,
For I’m capable of more than prettily waving a fan.
Stereotypes belong in the past; what’s the deal?
I’ve got my license, and this is how I feel:
No, I won’t think like a man when behind the wheel!
I am a woman, with nerves of steel.
No comments:
Post a Comment