rolling around in the back of a motorhome
bouncing and heaving down a highway
waiting to cross a state line and see some change out the back window
always invisible
but perceptible in my 8 year old flesh
certain of adventure and progress

later, driving on hot days
strapped into a car, irreverent
with irreverent boys
windows down, my breath caught by a freeway breeze of no discernable temperature
smooth lips like my own
and clean sweat
adventure but no progress
just stasis in the heat
miserable and comforting

later still, nighttime in a passenger seat
lights glancing across the window
even patterns, neons flashing at a club
confined in a clean car with a clean man
ready to take me home
to deposit me back into the real life I didn't manage to escape
despite the smiles and drinks and smoke filling the space between my atoms
no new adventures, just repetition compulsion
and backpedaling to that fork where I took the wrong road

feelings are fickle
happiness and destruction are one in the same