For Allison Beveridge
on our thirteenth anniversary

Route 303, the road we take
to work every day through two
counties. Hills our car labors
to climb, dips that require brakes.
Bad weather, potholes, inconsistent
patching by overworked laborers.
Still, mornings we awake, sometimes
make love, get ourselves ready
for the rocky parts, the hilly parts,
those best times when the ride
feels more like air than blacktop.
And we will do it again tomorrow,
and the next day, and the next
as long as there is breath in our
bodies, rings on our fingers.

©

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Blood and Thunder, Feral, and Grand Little Things, among others.