a poem a day for a year #253

by Amy Turn Sharp


Some crazy shit would happen if we boarded a bus together. Or stuck out our thumbs like baby Kerouacs on a corner someplace. Started walking with backpacks and compasses and bottles of booze. There's still time for a great adventure. You know this. Blood is pumping, engines aching. I could stretch my legs out inside a small tent with you. I could sit quiet in a desert. I could be a sidewalk heart bomb evangelist. And you would shine like a headlight all the way down my dream.