There I am
a prose poem
A damp yet dusty road stretched ahead. The sun shone intermittent, peeping through the thick, fluffy clouds.
I was home.
The errant crackle of static, leather seats with fraying threads. Pick at it; bite my nails to pass the time. The window opened a crack to clear the musty air in the cabin. Bumping along the dodgy trail. Time passes with no indication, further and further we go.
Squealing brakes and unloading thereafter. I linger feeling hopelessly spare. Borrowed, worn boots biting into my ankles. The radio kicks up into a wild relay as the uninterested stand-by.
Off in the distance you spot it, the rotors thrashing against the mid-afternoon air. Looking up, the sun burns my eyes even through pink lenses.
There I am.
Kicking the roots of nearby stumps with my steel toes, while my insides leap with excitement.
