Getting There

by De Jackson

I am still listening to the rumble of
rubber on asphalt even as the salt

seeps into my skin. We’re still swallow
-ing bright yellow lines and vague road

signs as mile after mile after mile pulls
us farther and farther from home. The

radio sings through the static and though
it’s a long haul and the pace car is long

gone there’s plenty of daylight left and
we’ll keep going. But just between me

and you, that fork in the road back
there was the knife that sliced us in two.