Yellow Dashed Line

By Jenna Sims

Third Place Poetry Winner of The Makeshift Review's Writing Contest 2021

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I imagine myself leaving,

Driving past the familiar sights,

Following my friend, that yellow dashed line.

That line is always present,

No matter where I chose to go,

No matter what I find to leave behind.

The concrete keeps rolling,

But there are no roots breaking through,

And without those roots grows not a single vine.

Where I want to be

Seems always living on the horizon.

But secretly I know it’s all a shimmering lie.

This mirage, this false oasis,

Gives me hope of a reality that bends,

And there is no silver lining in a fantasy of the mind.

So instead I follow the exit,

Still envious of the cars driving on,

And I follow the arrows on each familiar sign.

But one of these days,

I think I’ll finally follow that mirage.

It might just be, at this point, only a matter of time.

So if you hear me say,

“I think I’ll drive to Boston”

Please take my hand and be so kind.

Remind me of the roots I’ve grown,

And tell me of familiar sights, for then

I might invite you with me while I follow that yellow dashed line.