Drive

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
hunter/gatherer

Through the lens of my sunglasses
the world slumps, spreads itself
out under the weight of its own
atmosphere,
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
existence–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