Hurtling Down a Mountainside, Driving to Kentucky

I dream of every trip
I thought about but never took.

All the jagged cores of Earth
I could have roamed, like a corkscrew,

the bottles of wine I could’ve
sipped in the arms of a stranger.

all the moments I could’ve escaped,
the sphere of mourning a lost love

and saw our connection of flesh
the way it was:

a cockeyed and hopeful
melding of greed and alcohol.

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