urban beach

i have a love-hate relationship with road trips

i hate the cramped-sardine feeling i get in the car

suffocating me enough that i must

curl up in a ball

my nose bumping into the hollow of my knee

in an attempt to pack my body in as much as possible

i hate the waiting

my eyes jumping and skipping from one hay field to the next

watching lazy cows graze in the summer heat

and birds taunt me with their winged freedom

flying close, close

then flitting away, like they’re afraid

i will reach out and drain them of their liberation

like water from a sponge

but i love road trips too

i love the gentle lull of the wheels on the highway

with the occasional soft thump from holes

are the waves on my beach

i love looking at welcome signs and feeling relief

that to some people, this is home

while i am a willing stranger

they know every back road

every turn or imperfection of their town

i love that we coexist gladly

and they are the unknown tourists on my beach

i am very grateful to them

i love that they do not know my name

and are in that crowded backseat with me

on my road trip

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