Road Trip

I packed five sandwiches into the old cooler,
smooth peanut butter and the grape jelly from the
farm market on route 14.
I’m drunk on bad ideas, with no morals left to steer me
and my CD player loops every song at the end
But most important, I’ve got a picture of you,
as you are now. Forty-two.
A different name than I ever knew,
But it’s you.
My god, it’s really you.

I packed ten bottles of water in the trunk,
The kind that taste like the smell of a lawn.
Put on my old jeans and my workboots
Brought an extra jacket, a pair of warm gloves,
and a police issue revolver from the 70’s,
The kind with no safety at all.

And when I finally find your door,
What am I going to do?
Black and blue
to my core.
What am I going to do?
Pointing right at you.
Wishing I could only do,
much, much more.

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