reasons not to go

there’s a may wedding
in florida--
i’ve no way to get there.

i want a road trip--
twenty-four hours of
minimum velocity.

he wants a plane ride--
thirty-thousand feet
of blind trust.

it’s a problem.

I might go alone,
to a little island
off the coast,

a sun that sets
over the gulf—something
i’ve not seen.

my world is
landlocked and frozen,
i watch a coyote to the east,
his shoulders hunched
against the wind--he moves
sideways and forwards
at the same time.

I check air fares
and try to calculate mileage
as the price of unleaded
climbs.

id says
stay the fuck off that plane--no
pleasure in it.

superego says
save the money for a
rainy day.

ego thinks of a friend’s smile,
crunches numbers,
researches crash statistics,
and frets.