We drove for miles
through the Utah desert,
past the Rocky Mountains
and looked at cities
swimming by in a bokeh blur--
I fell asleep to him softly
humming to an unknown song
while we traveled below
the stars.
We stopped at a diner,
ate clammy pancakes
that weren't worth the wait
but we made the best of it
admiring the authentic view
and pointing out
newfound places in the ghetto
that didn't exist around home.
I woke up in the backseat
to the sound of a scenic
rest-stop stream
and gazed at the mountains
towering over me:
silhouettes against the
starry midnight sky.
In the following afternoon
we scaled plateaus
as tall as God
with a view of which made me
want to die
within that very heaven.
We survived for thirty hours on
junk food,
gas stations, rest-stops,
each other's music
and cramped, makeshift beds.
Looking back,
I would give anything
for another thirty hours
in that car.
I would notice the differences
between each place we stopped
ten times more.
I would close my eyes
to cherish those pictures in my head.
I would write a better poem about it all.
From a 9-lined stanza to a 1-lined stanza (consecutively).