That afternoon we let adventure marinate in our bones.
“Let’s just drive until we run out of road.”
What lay before us was only a mere separation of land and sky.

The heavens’ ocean splashed waves of white foam.
Cotton ball clouds soaked up the niagara of a sky
fastened with sapphire and indigo.
Daisies and daffodils leapt in spontaneous patches
nestled in sage pastures.
Eyes of dwarf owls gazed at us behind
tilted picket fences.

An oxidized mailbox sprouted vines of jasmine
and strawberry blossoms, for even rusting metal
can provide a beautiful haven for whimsical wildlife.
Grizzled, gray-haired porches played bluegrass
and country music. My ribs harmonized
banjo twangs and harp strings.

Until the gravel turns to sand.
Until the sky turns to sea.
Until dirt ceases to settle in the crevices
of our eyelids and we feel the longing kiss
of salt against our lips.
Where sienna land ends, where jade ocean begins.
Where our feet can turn to flippers and sirens sing
and mermaids beckon and I can finally say,
“Baby, we made it.”

– Samantha Prasad

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