Walking by the highway’s intersection when I was six years old

with my mommy and little brother in tow

clutching that Barbie doll till I lost her shoe—

staring by the roadside, year after year

snow was billowed fathoms deep

I was walking and riding beside those who raced

frantic, unseeing, sky-flinging sky-flung,

somewhere by the roadside

among poisoned flowers, bottles, and animal skeletons

I lost track of my steps.

Once I was walking alone in my dream

it was a country road, and it grew narrower and muddier

till it became a dirt path

a woman in a truck pulled over to ask me

“Do you want anything to eat?” because I looked lost

she had dark curly hair, and I was afraid.

In my life, I’m walking down the highway

I’m sleeping by the road

staring down over the guardrail

into the falling cold water

my face is falling by the roadside

my body is like the cars going by day after day;

my soul like the waterfall beating unseen, below the cars

I can’t keep up, I can’t keep looking

wishing someone would hold this breaking mirror of my soul

wishing I could run away

I don’t know where I’ll go

decisions will come like wind, tomorrow—

and moving backwards is moving on

my life like the colors of a winter sky

reflected in countless windows passing by

on the roadside, where I wait up like a sign

lead me onward, south from sorrow.