I yank my roots, quick and hard
from the soft green earth
where they have grown.
Rush from Butler, PA,
to the New York I’ve longed for.
Mom and Lewis think
it’s my ill-fated mission
to save my father,
but I only want
to save myself
from this aimless not-New York life.
I load my car with a
black steamer-trunk of
clothes, makeup, and dreams
head east on 80.
I watch God’s handiwork yield
to man’s inferior attempts
at lasting greatness.
Hours and miles to think
flicking spent cigarettes out the window
I vow
a fresh start all around.
Just need to lose
a few pounds first.