Power lines, speed of light shit. 

You can hear them in the rain 

The ones high up, overhead, straight from the dam 

Passing the small towns, you loved 

Along those river roads.

Your voice is still there, poking around old man bars 

Where my feet dangled from barstools 

Lips drooped around the edge of an IPA

Where gambling machines replaced jukeboxes 

And barflies smoked outside in the rain.

The wilderness sat next to your bitters and soda. 

You feared the river, the animals, their sound 

Where the forest ditched the highway. 

Scared of the things you thought you protected. 

In some places the water is still unincumbered 

Streams, rivers merge. 

I never showed you 

The road was close, so close, just hidden  

Behind trees, wild rhododendrons, 

Skunk cabbage, and camas.

It sounds different out there. 

I remember you running back to the parking lot 

In some kind of terror.

That image, stuck in my mind.

I wish I could be scared 

Even Lost 

But I’m not, I can’t.

I find myself running, further from the highway,  

From the sound of wires, speed limits, and your voice 

Walking where fall lays down its new carpet.

And underneath those yellowed aspen leaves 

Underneath the mix of pine needles 

A road appears…again 

To another small town 

Shaking off the thirsty summer 

From its fields of tall grass.