Scenic Route

There was a reason I decided to go
Old school
Paper map, back roads
Down to Saint Louis
Because I knew by the time I hit Route 71
With the windows down
The radio off
The field of my thoughts could finally unfold,
Stretch, unfurl, squeeze out
Beyond its wire-wrapped borders,
Freeing me to think poetically:
On the proper technique for eating peaches without a napkin
Regarding probable consequences of passing up the sweet corn stand
About retraining myself to breathe deeply
Of towns and their names: Norway, Ottawa, El Paso
Every image I see becomes imagery.
I cultivate phrases in my mind,
Hearing my words as they might be read aloud
Still all the while unsure if
When I hit the interstate
When I close the car windows
When I later sit alone,
My words will return, ready for harvest
Or whether they remain
Blurs through the window
As I go whizzing by.

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