in a darkened lot
under the romantic glow of a street lamp,
is necking. A good old-fashioned make-out.
Oblivious to the goings and comings
of the world, deaf to slamming car doors or passing people.
They envelop each other; she fills him like breath
He quenches her like water.
Perhaps that is the best kind of romance.
down the highway
under the rising Georgia heat
is leaning. Her gentle fingers scratching an itch
her husband cannot scratch
with both hands on the wheel. He leans in
to her touch; he smiles with gratitude,
glancing over for a moment.
Perhaps this is the best kind of love.
through green fields
rolling hills and empty two-lane roads,
is singing. Willie Nelson whines as
Wind whips through windows rolled down.
The scent of fresh cut grass fills his lungs
as the blue ridge mountains hold a steady, distant
Perhaps this is the best kind of freedom.
under a grey overpass
while the rain pelts down in sheets,
is crying. Sobbing, each breath desperate.
Remembering her lover’s soft touch
on the small of her back. How he used to guide her into
a room. How he used to reach up
and rub her neck, unexpectedly.
Perhaps this is the best kind of
Through oak-lined avenues
At cool summer’s dusk
is listening with his son. The notes of Beethoven softly lilt
Into the smaller space between them,
A comfortable silence. Finally, they are open
with each other
In the quiet white noise of a convertible.
Perhaps this is the best kind of bond.
On the window pane, the slobber flies
Onto the black paint and red stripes.
Is hanging his head
His jowls flap with abandon,
He bays into the speeding landscape at long past
Scents and foes.
Perhaps this is the best kind of joy.
Over the radio
Over each other
Is shouting in frustration
Eyes fixed on the road, her manicured hands
Grip the steering wheel, knuckles white.
Red-faced, the daughter
A miniature portrait of her mother, eyebrows furrowed
Loses her anger
Boxed in by steely forces, words punching
Black eyes on both.
Perhaps this is the best kind of catharsis.
A people travel up
Over and around chilled mountains, lush valleys,
flat, barren highways,
or parched deserts.
Perhaps these are the best kind of journeys.