Friday Drive
A Poem By Abrin B. Clearway
I’m looking for things I’ve never seen.
Basketball goals stand far, far away
from the Buick, and backyard-mountains
seem much more inconvenient
than what I initially thought.
Twice, I get that roller-coaster stomach,
when I drive to the top of hills so steep
that I can only see blue—
blue skies, hazy blue mountain-tops
in the farthest distance—twice,
my breath leaves in a zero-G gasp,
and it feels like the point
of no return. It feels like staring
at the salted night sky
and wondering if anybody else
is out there. And then I crash
into reality again, wanting to keep
my foot off the brake and
speed down the hill so fast
that I start flying. Maybe that curve
at the bottom will launch me far enough
to reach those hazy-blues.
About the Creator
Abrin B Clearway
Abrin is a queer, mixed-race Millenial who loves music, art, literature, and equality.
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