state lines
Let’s sail where the silver sea fractures beneath a starless sky, with a wayward compass and currents that carry us blind, while the wind combs cold fingers through rigging and foam; let’s follow the green-lit borders that shimmer and fly, each one a small assurance that we have not yet reached home. We have crossed them like birthdays, like bruises, like thresholds of gold, leaving whole little lives where the rain has turned grey, while old roads dissolve like ink beneath the glass; each border a quiet benediction for all we have outgrown, each mile a soft mourning for what we could not make stay. Let’s count every crossing, each coastline receding to white, the miles that have vanished like footprints in rain, and gather each vanished self like a relic at sea; perhaps there is grace in relinquishing sight, in letting the tide take what was never meant to remain mine. Tonight there is no shore, only stars burning pale, and the dark holds its breath while the wind fills the sails, ano...