Ode to the Road

Stepping out onto the pavement
from the gravel shoulder
I feel the asphalt electric
reaching
tentacles across the
continent.

I can get anywhere from here.

I long to
course through the
arteries of America
trickle into the small towns
slide belly down into
the Bowery
I could walk from here
to Panama
eating nothing but fresh tortillas
or hitch
to the Hudson Bay
further even
to the arctic circle
to see the sun.
There is no greater dream
than a new map
unfolded, paper crisp,
edges longing to become
as ragged
as the petals of
a roadside
daisy.