she’s wired for something else
pulling an oar out of frothing water
to feel closer 
she runs her fingertips over 
a second home 
skimming the cold 

she wants to be part of the trees 
buried into the side of a cliff
so when the earth breathes 
she can feel it sigh against her chest
holding her closer than anyone has before 

she’s a white river at her core 
an old school bus chugging up a hill 
where the wind combs her hair
and she feels closer 
to the water beading off her arms
when she dangles a foot out the open bus door.