Road trip

Follow the glowing highway lights.

Maybe you don’t know where you’re going, but someone’s ought to.

That’s why people drive, isn’t it?

To get somewhere?

It’s no wonder you love the feeling of getting lost,

it’s familiar to you.

Pacific to Atlantic & back

drive the dust-stained side roads until

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the rear-view mirror.

Talk to strangers in convenience stores and

roadside diners until you can see yourself

in them.

Listen to the music that makes your brother roll his eyes &

makes your mother grimace.

Sing along to the songs that saved your life and the songs

that made your life worthwhile.

Bring a camera.

But don’t take pictures of famous attractions and tourist sights.

Take pictures of the clouds

of the smiley face scratched into the gas station window

of ordinary flowers on the roadside and

of insignificant details.

Take pictures of what makes the trip feel real.

Drive until you aren’t sure how to get home

but return home anyway

because a sister is waiting to see if you’re the same person you were

when you left

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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