Car Trips Poem by Maya Hanson

So many miles of highway to go
and with such a heavy load,
this perfect space,
my chest painted red,
it will never seem like enough.

I can't write to the beat of this world of stones
but I let go of my voice, tap in such a small space
I can't reach when it sounds like recovery
but there are peaks I can climb up
now that you weigh on me like holes in my pockets

I can't take a blade to this world of stones
but we can get so lost we are found
I thought I saw a halo but the wings were clipped
and I love your gold-tipped edges more than I would if they were flawless
now these are places
I will only go with the windows down

I don't need contact
I can get high on your echo
and the bass from the backseat
I don't need clouds
I can run on your aftertaste
so I have locked my mouth
I never want the flavor to leave again

So many miles of highway to go
and with such a heavy load,
my chest painted red,
it will never seem like enough

With such a heavy load,
my chest painted red,
I sing if I can't keep you no one can

This is how I know how much you mean to me:
I hate car trips
and I never want this one to end.