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Description
Endless stretches of open road,
Dry eyes squinted against the wind and light,
Music blaring from the speakers, heart in tune with the bass.

Back and forth we volley the same
Feelings of unrest and discontent,
Draping it in different syllables and
Switching up the syntax to accentuate
The pattern of our distemper.

Signs whip past the window before I can read
The names of places I’ve never heard of.
We shout over the engine and point at wildlife and
The driftwood that litters the sun-drenched river.

Back and forth, the needle pierces the tapestry,
Re-stitching our reasons for driving 50 mph to nowhere.
We shift through layer after layer of unnecessary fabrics
Until we are left with a single cloth, content.
Now it’s time to smooth the frayed edges.

But there is one loose thread that I cannot hem:
Was it worth losing the warmth of rough-hewed wool
To get to this place of satin and silk?
Someone speaks, and wraps me in tones of velvet,
Making me forget what simple cotton feels like.
I dropped my needle when we made a U-turn.

We’re heading back to the main road, and I sit silent in the back seat, unwoven.

Description
Endless stretches of open road,
Dry eyes squinted against the wind and light,
Music blaring from the speakers, heart in tune with the bass.

Back and forth we volley the same
Feelings of unrest and discontent,
Draping it in different syllables and
Switching up the syntax to accentuate
The pattern of our distemper.

Signs whip past the window before I can read
The names of places I’ve never heard of.
We shout over the engine and point at wildlife and
The driftwood that litters the sun-drenched river.

Back and forth, the needle pierces the tapestry,
Re-stitching our reasons for driving 50 mph to nowhere.
We shift through layer after layer of unnecessary fabrics
Until we are left with a single cloth, content.
Now it’s time to smooth the frayed edges.

But there is one loose thread that I cannot hem:
Was it worth losing the warmth of rough-hewed wool
To get to this place of satin and silk?
Someone speaks, and wraps me in tones of velvet,
Making me forget what simple cotton feels like.
I dropped my needle when we made a U-turn.

We’re heading back to the main road, and I sit silent in the back seat, unwoven.