Troubled Coast We Can't Go Home
This lingering highway is worthless use of state. Can we shift the plates and make the ocean floor explode? Or maybe California will subside and we can watch it sink from the studio apartment of our new Oregon home. We drift apart and start to sink, you seem okay. We shift in sync. We scratch our eyes in disbelief. The road is black, a piercing shade of lifelessness. We shed our skin. Expose our souls. Mix blood and sweat. An open road. The bending signs. Blurred photographs. Receding lines. A burning drop of gold is falling to the sill of the world, it drives us home. We drift apart and start to think, is this okay, hearing you speak through satellites in cryptic speech? The road is lit an eager hue of bright-eyed youth and I need to know what hides behind virescent eyes. We float face up along the interstate. Travel to a different speed, to a different beat. You and I are like where pavement and skyline collide.
