Timothy Tarkelly

Delaware

Escapes are far more simple
than the staying gone. The body
groans, agog for the sight
of pressed cotton, feathered cushions.
In Kittyhawk, we found that a bed
is in fact a bed, and that kids
can love and swim in the sunrise
wherever the horizon is flat and kind.
Maybe, it's not the lack of comforts,
but their ever-presence,
iced coffees and pristine plastic
waiting at every exit to blow our impulses
into a bright, raging flame of nausea
that won't find it s center until
we leave the car, walk for a while,
breathe air untainted by top-40 tunes
and fast food wrappers. Where are the tents,
the slab cities, and tarpaulin hysterics?
Where did the longing go? Why are we fighting
over prices quoted before the departure?
The car reverses its course
at midnight, a silent surrender
in the pine-scented dark.
I realize it was us,
the pressure we so eagerly ran away from.

Timothy Tarkelly's work has appeared in Rise Up Review, AIOTB Magazine, Masticadores Canada, and others. He's authored several collections of poetry including The You We Know and Love (Spartan Press), A Horse Called Victory (Kelsay Books), and Kezia (Alien Buddha Press). When he's not writing he teaches in Southeast Kansas.