road trips


the stem of too familiar things

i never found out why
trails vanished
faster than
imaginary mother's
apple pie.

we danced our way
the best he said (he tried)
down roads squished 
by dark
menacing edges
soil hungry trees
power lines designed
a sense of normalcy
each pole connected
a safe homes electricity.

this town: sea life shattered molecules
that town: sweet sticky tobacco fields
your town
their town
strange town

i peered through peepholes
hot breath on windows
watched state signs go by
old leather seats beneath my thighs
brown mink blanket (from Japan)
pink bunny pillow (from Germany)
backseat camping
bent knees, tired bones

(maybe that's why they ache now.)

headlights behind lit my book
held high to quickly get
lost in a world
rooted elsewhere: a sunny street, a blue house, sisters laughing, parents holding

the space

there was no time 
just concrete beneath tires
miles upon miles

i'd hold my pee oooooweeee
so he didn't have to stop (again)
exit after exit i'd squirm and nearly say...

but maybe he knew
or he had to
too

a stretch
a backrub
coffee with sugar and cream
tea for me

often there'd be an audible sigh
between toll roads
banana peels, pistachios
plastic cup of quarters
pit stop markets 
and
Mack Truck men
whose eyes
always said goodbye.