poetic rant

I came to the edge-of-town Starbucks to be near the open road
I came to feel moonlit wind on my face
Head tilted skyward, eyes closed, tears press forward
Every inch is still so damn planned out here
until only the evening breeze and insect serenades are unrehearsed
among more choreographed prairie grasses, one foot shrubs
light weight melodies, and two neat rows of wobbly black tables

I cried all the way here, looking through time
for a little girl (I was) who knew something I’m straining to remember
unconditional love and deep wonder
Open road, when we finally live in your embrace
will you return her treasures

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