Road trips are an expedited way
To get to know someone.
These are the adventures
Where friendships are formed
over greasy gas station grub,
and that Sahara dry breakfast bagel
I otherwise wouldn’t eat.
Plus a cup of the latest sugary concoction,
crafted by an underpaid barista.
Maybe had we taken a road trip to Atlanta
I would’ve known much sooner
how controlling you can be
My puppet master, my ventriloquist
If only I knew how far your hand was up my back
If only I knew you pulled the strings.
I was your unhinged bullet train,
Ready to derail into a fiery explosion.
And as the fruit known as romance spoiled
I rose up from the ashes like a phoenix
Taking flight, far away from your destination
I was only 20, I needed to spread my wings and fly
Perhaps this is why we never took a road trip
To get to know someone.
These are the adventures
Where friendships are formed
over greasy gas station grub,
and that Sahara dry breakfast bagel
I otherwise wouldn’t eat.
Plus a cup of the latest sugary concoction,
crafted by an underpaid barista.
Maybe had we taken a road trip to Atlanta
I would’ve known much sooner
how controlling you can be
My puppet master, my ventriloquist
If only I knew how far your hand was up my back
If only I knew you pulled the strings.
I was your unhinged bullet train,
Ready to derail into a fiery explosion.
And as the fruit known as romance spoiled
I rose up from the ashes like a phoenix
Taking flight, far away from your destination
I was only 20, I needed to spread my wings and fly
Perhaps this is why we never took a road trip
Chris L. Butler is an Afro-Dutch poet, essayist, and historian from Philadelphia. His work has been featured in Trampset Magazine, Lucky Jefferson, Versification, The Bayou Review, Medium, and NewPages.