Road Trips to Maine
Headphones in, engine on---
I have a way of immersing myself
into the notes of my music,
drowning myself from the drone of
and distant voices,
barred from NE countrysides
on optimal summer days.
Road trips induce a certain nostalgia--
a feeling that is so heart-wrenching
that I’d rather drown in a pool of
honey-colored string instruments,
than face my fear of the past’s glory.
I am fearful of the idleness of such journeys,
blue skies that prompt blank thoughts that unravel into angst,
which lifts my blood pressure to all time highs.
Rather, Sinatra distracts me in all this bustle,
detracts my attention from dancing clouds
to fly me to the moon.