Backseat Beautiful (stream of consciousness writing 3)

She didn't look like she belonged
In the backseat of the '94 Olds
She looked like she'd been kidnapped
Too pretty to be with the people
She was waiting on:
The obese man with holes
All along the front of his shirt,
And the unkempt chubby girl
In the plaid cowboy shirt
And the too tight denim cut-offs
She didn't look like she spoke
Their language of cuss words
And consenting grunts
But the way she leaned her head
Against the window and looked out
Was a settled look of concession.
She knew she was there
And there is all there is
To the beautiful girl
In the backseat