Not in Miles

was I born at the bottom
of the pit of your stomach
where desire met demand?
or was it when I left you for the land?
there's a band around my thin bird limb
that tells you where I've been
up north, we measure distance
not in miles, but by hours on the road
unless the snakeskin pavement
conspires to crack the code
get a load of the man alone
taking one seat in a car for four
(sitting himself sore)
dumb enough to thumb a ride
to reach the places in his mind
everyone wants to know how far
to leave themselves
behind

~ ~ ~

April 26, 2025
Barss Corner, Nova Scotia

Year 18, Day 6376 of my daily journal.