Where?

[kim.mcarthur]

I want to go . . . . I want to, . . .- I just want to go . . . .

I verbally stumbled out to my girls as we sat on the bar making bad drinking decisions
––again.

Where, Where do you want to go
He said

Where am I taking you - he meant.

Where did he come from?
Who sent him to offer me everything?

No questions

freedom flowed into my lungs and begun to dance with my breath.

Their routine-less rhythm spun around my soul, intertwined, dizzy, taunting, and the ribs of my cage began to weep at the beauty of their movement.
weed; beaches; sleep; driving; driving, driving, driving, driving . . .

and . . . . . . . .

Where?

Nowhere,

I said

I can not let myself go with you - I meant.
My answer tracked his footsteps out the door.

I exhaled the dance, walked home, kissed our son goodnight, and
wondered,

has she come to you yet and where will you say you can go?

[imaginary friend]

The sense of tension, the momentary euphoria generated by the thought of abandoning responsibility and saying 'yes', is palpable. In particular, I like this wordplay:

the ribs of my cage