Traveling the interstate routes
With no sense of direction
Following no road map
Traveling only by the lay of the land
Going on only because
Of the love of the land

You and your dad

You, a curly-haired toddler
Without even the knowledge
To put the right shoes on the right feet
Listening to Willie Nelson in a trance

You
Your dad

Feeling the love, but not really understanding it
Your bottle in one hand
The other, clutching the seat belt
Anticipating the next fork in the road

You, a rosy-cheeked kid

Not knowing anything but
Willie Nelson’s voice and
The indescribable landscape
Not knowing
That later on in life you wish you would be able to relive
That single moment
A thousand times
Only the hazy memory
Sticking to you like the apple juice leaking from the bottle
Stuck to your lively little fingers at one time

You and your dad

On the interstate routes.