Going for a Drive — A Poem
Sometimes, I wish I could drive until
my radio is nothing but static noise
and I taste the horizon on my tongue.
I wouldn’t call it a vacation
because vacations never last longer
than the whole milk in my fridge.
Sometimes, I wish I could drive until
my radio is nothing but static noise
and I taste the horizon on my tongue.
I wouldn’t call it a vacation
because vacations never last longer
than the whole milk in my fridge.