You are the opposite of raindrops.

You are the bluster that pushes tumbleweeds

across the road, to pile against a fence

You are the same road every weekend

The first fork up, the other down.

the juniper and claret cup

the sage and rabbit brush.

You are the one

to stand curious, or run faster

than the wind can push you.

I have breathing that has not

found a home yet.

It pushes on my ribs to escape.

To tell you all I feel;

All I want you to know,

and to exhale it all

at the end of an empty road.