The streets were eternal back then
back when back seat was a canopy of arms
stretched out like the solstice
the thump of tire on chewed cement
jolting the deviance from feeble bodies
Momma was no pilot, but by god we flew
through our hyphenated town
Remember the year
they turned the landfill inside out?
carried the beach to our bare-boned dump
built a mountain from dead ends
and broken parts. We were nothing if not broken
by the time we scaled to the top of our world
heaving hearts held in hollow hands
All of these roads lead home, you told me
and all of the world we had memorized
in a single haphazard breath
the sky grew colder with constellations
the river grew grander since yesterday
we grew older still, no longer backseat bandits
we drove and we drove and we drove –
Past the cemetery on Erb
not quite sure what death did
or whose tombstones
make a country.
