I asked for the ride with a stutter

I asked for the ride with a stutter,

prepared for a polite 'maybe not.'

But you said 'be ready at seven,'

and now I am tied in a knot.

We sit in the cab of your truck

while the wipers scrape over the glass.

I don't know where to put my hands

as the miles of the highway pass.

A 'no' is a wall I can lean on,

a 'yes' is a room with no floor.

I'm staring out at the gravel

and looking for the handle of the door.