There

Poem to try to get you out of your head.

THERE

Take me there, right here,
  Right now, in my car,
    To the coffee shop in which we’ve never sat,
      The one with grease on grimy walls,
        From the steak fries we’ve never eaten.

Allow me the luxury of your hell, of your peace, of a piece,
Of the bison that graze outside your window there.

Here, in my car,
  Show me your holy, private, sanctioned place.
    Where walls will never be stained
      And booze will never be spilled
        Out of slovenly inebriation.

Take me there, where space
  is allocated for the freedom
    to scream and to howl
      to moan and to whimper
        Where it is not allowed
          to worry about wallpaper
            or grease and lipstick stains
              left behind.

Take me there, I want a there, I have no there.
  I’m always here.
    With you, voluntarily,
      With him, subconsciously
        And with the same old demons,
          comfortably.

I want to get lost in your woods and find
  the mountains inside the crevasses,
    the plains buried in Indians,
      the sunburns from the snow,
        a highway with no destination
          but a damn good view,
            and a coffee shop at every rest stop.