GUSTY WINDS MAY OCCUR (A POEM ABOUT PASSING ROAD SIGNS)

MARCH 16, 2013

you drove
through four states
then
stopped
only 16 miles away from
a fifth.
yesterday
you didn’t know
whether
this
was a good idea
or not:
leaving was hard and
it hurt.

your eyes
are
still bloodshot
from the
should-haves & what-ifs
& how-do-I-
know-for-sures that
you cried
into yesterday’s tissues.
but
that was
nearly 1,000 miles ago and
today’s soggy pile
was
much smaller.

somewhere along the
way, you
realized something
you
already knew, that:
there is
no such thing as for-sure.

we try.
and then pick up from
there
and try again.
( the
. only road signs with
. writing on them
. are

. in your rearview mirror. )