I crossover state lines
The sign reads: “A PLACE WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE”
the sun soaked dashboard is my minbar
My prayers look like your voice
asking me how I am
I choke on pastoral imagery
Slipped into the slides is your face
My pocket is empty of you but full to the brim of
faith
I may incline over the lump of a hill and find you just beyond the dip
In the valley waiting on me
I may ride over the next hill and find
you waiting on me
just like that
Home is in the pit of a grassy valley
My pocket is empty of sight,
stuffed with unknown
This train hurls me into it
I extend my arm into the unknown before me
Into all that I cannot see
My fingertips hope to meet your face
I wait
