we headed home—
hair stiff
from the sea,
skin scorched
from the sun,
like the charred
remains of that heap of metal
and rubber we saw on the side
of the parkway—
I realized we
were driving
headlong
into all of the spiders
and the secrets
that we had left
up
north
what felt best,
aside from your warm fingers
drumming
on the back of my
neck, was the
thought that maybe
it didn’t
have to be this way
forever,
that maybe
one day,
it would get easier
maybe one day,
I wouldn’t have
to stop,
after dropping you
off, to pick up
a bag of hope,
and a container of
fresh berries
