The Peninsula.

And now

I am wonderment

amazement

and decision.

Right now

I am finalized.

I am longing for

anywhere

but the city

I miss

what I've always known

as home

the beaches

made of stone

water

too frigid for swimming

and swimming

without reason

just the same.

I want

the peninsula 

the chill

of evergreens

with a slow drawl

and sun-baked

pine needles

in dust

feeding apples

to the misty morning

deer grazing the bluff

above the cliffs

above the sound

above the fire and

under the stars.

I want to be kissed

by a boy

who is simple and sweet

who dreams of music

and the road.

With sand-colored hair

and soft skin.

I want the dust

of the country

the U.S. west

where voices

mimic birds

and skies go on

forever.

I want my family

the arms of my mother

when I cross reckless

past borders and states

o'er rivers and peaks

through the frame of her door

and back

into her home.