prodigal ride

the long ride

into the hills to escape adventure, venturing the heights for pleasure

northbound and bent to be back on the hull of this hollow pipe

tempered by rage and obedience  

i’m coming home with new skin tuned to the worries of the lost

tearing, soul of my childhood where the knife’s edge kept on

past mother mountain—landings the launching pads

tops of trees the view

slow, clip by clip into the darkening narrow hills above towns

ascending further beyond self and the abstracting love

that holds these tires to the ground

bound and broke—i misplace these worries scattering at the curbside’s end