you point
the car into the direction
of the ocean
after loading
the trunk with summer clothes
in a bag,
a beach chair.
an umbrella, books.
you douse your three
small plants
with water one last time,
tell them good
luck
then go.
you get in line behind
a hundred thousand
other cars,
also going in that direction,
almost at a stop.
you exhale.
put the beach boys on.
don't worry baby they sing.
winter is coming.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment