Traveling the interstate routesWith no sense of directionFollowing no road mapTraveling only by the lay of the landGoing on only becauseOf the love of the land

You and your dad

You, a curly-haired toddlerWithout even the knowledgeTo put the right shoes on the right feetListening to Willie Nelson in a trance

YouYour dad

Feeling the love, but not really understanding itYour bottle in one handThe other, clutching the seat beltAnticipating the next fork in the road

You, a rosy-cheeked kid

Not knowing anything butWillie Nelson’s voice andThe indescribable landscapeNot knowingThat later on in life you wish you would be able to reliveThat single momentA thousand timesOnly the hazy memorySticking to you like the apple juice leaking from the bottleStuck to your lively little fingers at one time

You and your dad

On the interstate routes.