Far away from the Marlboro scent of childhood,
feeling comforted, disoriented
by fleeting glimpses of rural Pennsylvania:
nausea caused by reading,
thirty three grams of carbs.
Stretching across sticky leather seats,
feeling the movement of memories:
first tastes of mom’s cheap wine, dad’s piss-beer,
dipping finger tips in burning vanilla candles,
headphone dreams while staring out windows.
Spiraling like a whirlpool,
gazing through the layer of dead bugs on the window;
a rapid breeze, a slap on the cheek
(mom’s smoking a cigarette).
Aggressive wind sucks the cheap smoke from
stale car interior.
Dilapidated billboards for ‘King of Beers’ passes by
in a grassy sea of
Pressure building behind ears releases from waxy caverns;
a relief and a headache.
At Subway a short elderly man with a ball cap and
blue jeans conversed about
where he came from and where he was going:
he too noticed the rainbow through the clouds.
Biting into tuna sandwich
diesel fuel and
Disgustedly hungry, finishing the meal in seven swift bites.
The rolling hills reminiscent of
on a perpetual roller coaster
(a beloved adolescent machine)
velocities and altitudes constantly changing,
inescapable fear of the
from the not-so-amusing ride of unconscious anxiety.
Crying under the sheets of mom’s bed;
the smell of her
and flashing light of the TV.
A road trip through
dry, November cornfields,
swaying with yesterday.