highway lure

the decision to leave wasn't made by me.

it was made by this skinny,

sickly girl,

slouched on her parents' crumbling back porch

smoking half a cigerette

watching an ant crawl across her toe

she thought of him and her breath stopped.

it seemed

she could only breathe when she smoked
and didn't think of him.

so she smoked and didn't think of him.

until she was lying in a dorm room,

somewhere in denver,

face pressed against the pane,

oblivious to the chill

against feverish cheeks

it was snowing as she drifted

memories lacing her dreams 

weak strains of filtered, gray dawn brought no peace.

but the highway did,

stretching, reaching 

beckoning