splatter

On the long drive
up I-44 from Tulsa
to St. Louis,
trees breathed on me,
and the sweet air
kissed my cheek.

"I could live here,"
I thought,
"in these rolling hills."
And I made
a mental note
to explore
later in life.

And when I stopped,
to get gas
and clean bug splatter
off my windshield,
I picked up a real estate book
and some rental cabin brochures,
just in case.

But I never did go back.
Yet.