It’s 1:30 on an April afternoon and I
am as high as the sky blue sky
driving down main in search of food,
ever the model of modern

Through the lens of my sunglasses
the world slumps, spreads itself
out under the weight of its own
an ice cream cake left on a kitchen
counter, collapsing

I am entirely comfortable,
which is to say numb to
the knowledge of my own
–the weather
is perfectly submergible,
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a bath I’m dissolving into,
losing track of where my boundaries
lie when I shut my eyes, the wind
a ghostly lover’s fingers slinking
through the thin brambles of my hair

Days like this are best spent
in reflection–
I am alive, free, healthy,
and I have nothing
but giddy thanks to give
and the open road to take