On my way to you.

On my way to you
1-5 N (Seattle to Bellingham)

bumps in the road
woke me from the technicolor reverie:

things we hope for
and choose to see

my eyes are drawn back to greys,
to the dark corners,
water spilled in sawdust
and rusted edges
you wipe clean;
all the while, dancing

whirling dervish,                                                                                                                                                       unraveling wisdom
that had a chance to kick
to a cosmic chahut
with bloodied knees,
you take the path
to plastic skies and bubble wrap

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