Every Day’s a Kind of Road, but Roads Don’t Come with Doors

There’s far too many people
On the road this afternoon,
She said, while craning her head

To watch for pedestrians
And cyclists between the trucks
And SUVs and pickups.

Her sister just laughed at her.
One more than you’s too many
For you. One more than any,

Shot back the driving sister.
I’d be happy to be gone
And long off the road myself.

No, you wouldn’t. There’s always
Another someplace to go
In your mind, and you know it.

No, not another someplace,
Another nowhere, somewhere,
That road to just the right door.