by Sarah Ellen
I left town and drove all day,
Stopping only for meals and bathroom breaks.
I kept the radio on, but my thoughts were louder,
And I knew all the songs anyway.
Wisconsin wound round all the hills and woods while
I drifted in and out of road reveries, thinking
Of what I leave behind every summer in lieu of education.
Illinois lingered on forever, and
Somewhere in the middle of the corn and road construction
I made the decision to write this, even if you don't respond.
After eight hours of internal deliberation it was a quite
Palpable relief to see the border of Indiana, funny, isn't it? It looks
The same. The rest of my trip was more of a homecoming than was
My return to Minnesota last May.
I've settled in, and it's taken me a long time to muster up
The courage I need for this confession. This is a moment of
Fragility, the vulnerability I express now you most likely won't see again.
I fear you tolerate my presence out of kindness, pity,
Because you don't know what else to do. If I should stop seeking you
I doubt you would seek me.
Your response to this shall either be confirmation of my fear, or
Laughing at my self-centered naiveté. To me neither of these is
Palatable. I am afraid of what you will say, of what you will not say,
but I anxiously wait for your reply.