Once Craned
my Neck
Janet Kuypers
4/22/19
I know you’ve joined me
all around this country,
I’ve photographed bison
who stopped us from driving
when they crossed the road —
I know you’ve been with me
through the National Parks
and down the most congested
streets this country has ever
known, over solidified sands
that made ripples in the road.
You were with me every time
I drove two states away
to see my dying best friend.
But right now, all I can think about
is when I was in Montana, driving
from one state to the next
and there was no speed limit there.
So as I got to the top of a deserted
mountain road on some Sunday
morning, I’d then crane my neck
to see if I could see any cops
anywhere, because it still felt
like I was doing something illegal
when I floored it and sped until the
speedometer could no longer rise.
I don’t know if you’ll even notice,
but I want you to know that,
even when you caused me problems,
you were always there for me,
and I’ll never forget that
you even once saved my life.
I just want you to know just
how much you’ve meant to me.
And I’ll miss you. I don’t want to
count the minutes until we’re
no longer together, and before
we even separate, I still cry.
I’ll miss you. I miss you already.
I’ll miss you...
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