Mister, By Alyssa Trivett

You are a lot like me, and then not so much.

A reflection better than a horse to a river.

As I drive by Barbie-house suburban mall apartments, where is my mind?

It always whirligigs to your swimming pool blue eyes.

Although my nearly deceased-seven-years-ago father haunts me every once in a while, 

how long will this jaunt haunt me?

I have been to the ends of the Earth,

combing the sands & shores,

wandering around the wasteful wasteland

sometimes full of evil, yet with a shimmery sun;

and it is only you. 

In the hall of Mount Rushmore dudes,

you are far superior to any other dude

I ever knew.

I would scrawl that sentiment in wet cement,

on the dirty windshield of my hatchback.

No matter which side of the sidewalk

I walk on,

or locked door I enter through,

it is only you.

Continuing to flail my arms

as an inflatable roadside ornament,

I rise every morning,

relaying a newly made prayer,

to the God we both believe in,

that you may rest if you are weary,

and that all may end up well

with you on your journey,

no matter which highway exit ramp

your boxcar pounces up.

Sincerely,

The one who loved you.

Alyssa Trivett is a wandering soul from the Midwest. When not working two jobs, she chirps down coffee while scrawling lines. Her work has appeared in many places, but most recently at Ex Ex Lit, and Duane's PoeTree