Traveling

I woke up Friday morning feeling much better, so I loaded up the car and headed out of town to the in-laws. Because I’ve never made this drive on my own, I wasn’t sure of exactly where I was headed, and therefore my desire to meander and snap pics was seriously subdued. I was spending most of the drive wondering if I was even headed in the right direction. My goal was to make the 4-hour drive without stopping, but of course this did not happen. And when I pulled off at a roadside rest stop and saw how spiffy it was, I decided I had to take a few quick shots.

My memories of rest stops are fuzzy as I am not a big road-tripper, but in my mind the ones I visited in the past were nothing more than glorified Porta Potties. No air conditioning, definitely no one keeping the place clean, and definitely no toilet paper. This thing was swanky. It had a little community center inside and huge, air-conditioned bathrooms that were well-lit, well-ventilated, and seriously tidy. I didn’t even do that thing I normally do in pit stop bathrooms where I struggle to disallow any part of my skin touching any surface whatsoever while I’m in there.

wagon

rest stop
Welcome Wagon

cotton
Also educational

As I pulled off the main highway and onto one of the many country roads that would take me to my sister-in-law’s house, I discovered that Texas is close-minded and judgmental towards not just women, but cattle as well. Then again, maybe this goes without saying.

loose
Slut-cow shaming

Baggage – Poem

Baggage

I have written a thousand poems
to the emptinesses I’ve left

behind, simple as sockrolls
tucked in haversack flap pockets, compact

as a roll of quarters tumbling
in an unfilled suitcase. I would no more

read them to you than I would answer
the ads on back pages of

the foreign city hotel foyer newspapers I read
alone in pallid, impersonal rooms.