Remembering Roads

Following these sinuous roads,

I recall trips that ended in embraces.

My weight shifts in the corners and

my body feels it. No short strolls

or straight shots: serpentine,

windy ascents over

the pass and the state line;

long straights and steady,

even grades, truck lanes

and deep forests, roads winter-

slippery and summer shaded,

witnesses to my earnestness in

driving to, and satisfaction in

driving from, those houses where

someone brightened a doorway,

the distance an equation of

anticipation and reflection: something,

somewhere, the spending of the now

for some then—or, distance as insulation,

sure as I am safe in a car, immune from weather,

so too my heart traveled safely, my life

sectioned off, little borderlines to cross

to get to and from the center. No way of

knowing now, even though I know each

curve, dip and twist, the ones that

bring belly butterflies and a fluttery chest,

slowing and acceleration, routes now

that are still simply roads even as

memory diverges on its own path.