Searching for radio stations in the middle of Wyoming,
my destination doesn't even occur to me.
I'm counting down the hours and days,
but I don't consider what I'll do when I get there.
Wayworn already, all I can think about are the
mundane details of the rest of the trip.
Listen to the radio,
How much gas is left?
How much longer can I hold my bladder?
Pass the truck.
Stretch my left leg.
Switch legs and stretch my right leg.
I can think about the relief I'll feel
when the trip is done.
No more driving, driving, driving.
I can sit. Just sit.
I try not to let the specter
of the return trip bother me.
I posted the above as a comment on the Word of the Day RSS feed. I didn't put anything else but the poem, but I'm hoping that other people will be inspired to put up their own poetry, something better than mine, I hope. Also, putting it up in a public forum (more public than my own journal) puts a little more pressure on me, maybe enough to get me to do it every day. We'll see. I guess I'll have to keep doing this until somebody makes a WOTDP community.