I am done here,
I'll pack up my
pie plate and
mis-matched glassware
and drive into
somewhere else
and then somewhere
different after that.
Because I'm not
sure what to do,
I just want to drive
until I hit sea,
and then park my
car and sleep in the
sand.
I am wayward
or wayfaring,
never sure which.
But the yearning
to leave rarely goes
away.
I am conflicted
at the very center
of my being.
All I know is
I want to dive,
I want the salty sea
air, the swells and tides.
And a very good traveling
partner in the passenger seat
to sing with.
I know who I want
to be there,
which makes everything
so much worse.
No comments:
Post a Comment