ROUTE 9

I drove down route 9 yesterday

A curious finger tracing the spine of a stranger

The trees were bleeding

Red all over

Dripping on the double yellow like a sacrifice 

A martyr to winter

A necessary death stretching around my head lights

Welcoming and freeing

Warm water around a stubborn splinter

I don't need help

I need a canyon

A cup of coffee made for me

The way they know i like it

Almond milk and brown sugar

 1 ¼ scoop

I'm not complicated 

Just desperate to be understood 

But desperate like the downward pulse of a river

Not the bear at its shore

Clawing for busy fish 

Here in maine

I ate patience

It tastes like pulled pork

Simmering in the kitchen

As we laugh about life's messy hair with comedic gratitude

Still high from the afternoon

And we don't ask questions

We just experience the answer

Low and slow

Not even realizing were living in a past prayer

Blind to time

But aware of the moment 

While we sink into the couch