Hair and Bugs Fly

Riding topless
the jeep careens along
lunging forward
swaying right then left.

Hair and bugs fly
all over us.

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As we wound up through the Smokey Mountains I felt my chest swell with the anticipation of coming home to an old friend. The closeness to all things living and growing reminded me of snow in Michigan, green groves untouched and deserted beaches in Bali, and mud huts, earth build on top of earth in Ghana. It reminded me of times when I was so close to everything breathing one heave of calm, like a rocker swaying on the porch with the wind.

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I am hungry in so many ways.

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Hot, laid out in the back of the jeep.

Legs swinging out the sides
which we stripped off
along with the roof
to let the sunlight in.

Bathing in heated winds
at 60 miles-an-hour
I have to let go of my hair
and say hello
to flying freedom.

The Allman Brothers sang to us
as water bugs crawled around
in leftover sand from the beach.

The floor was graced with bare summer feet
and jokes about family were yelled
over highway sounds.

We drive the open roads, straight and stark naked,
for so long that we watched for roadkill with excitement.

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