Written by: Allison Ballard

The muggy road
coughs the ticker tape
I trace with my eyes.
A piece here…
a piece there

I could spend a day
Wondering what the
asphalt tastes like
If that was a choice

I would fantasize about
doing what I wanted
“STOP” coming only from me
Everything would be left
And feel right

And I could be a glutton
to the singleness of me.
The destination immense,
A sea, a patient sea
that for me, could wait

unlike the Acura on my back
With an assertive fist raised
Against what I do

I am who I am 
For me
Not you.