have you ever loved a boy

on the road?

 

have you ever watched his hands

on the wheel,

have you ever watched his eyes

darting from the road

to meet yours?

 

your path

from state to state

drawn in yellow lines

and cheap cherry pie

packaged in plastic

and eaten with tiny white forks,

purchased in gas stations

consumed by clouds of cigar exhaust -

 

have you ever imagined that it

was more like fate

like the expanses of leather

between his thigh and yours

is criss-crossed with red string

that will tie you two together

maybe even forever

?

 

but you have to remember,

with boys and cars

and mountains and stars

that never is an awfully long time

 

and forever isn’t very long at all.

 

have you ever loved a boy

on the road?

 

the buzz

of the cicadas

your blood rushing, like echoes

from the fifth floor

of a parking garage

loud in your ears

the way you slam your car door

drowning out your thoughts

as you’re waiting in the shade

 

of a bus stop

tracing red,

yellow,

green,

lines

 

looking at tiny black print,

squinting at New York,

Boston,
Miami,

 

different cages
to be trapped inside
behind barbed wire

or white picket fences

and under the weight of somedays

 

thinking of what he’d say

and watching the tail-lights

go over that hill

and listening to the engine’s roar

fade

from you.

 

have you ever loved a boy

on the road?

 

wishing he’d call

wishing he’d let you know

that “These tourists still

can’t drive worth a damn!”

 

wishing you could remember

the way his lips

looked around the words

carry on,

carry on,

carry on,

 

or the way his chest rose

and fell

at night

like the sounds of the sea

rocking you to sleep.