I stared at the side of your face and felt you tearing up
“I don’t understand why you disrespect me so,”
I pointed out to the stretch of interstate before us
I am that concrete.
I am that tar.
I am that pothole.
You run over paths predestined
complain loudly over the bumps
gently praise the mended blemishes
and ignore the gentle whimpers of concrete from asphalt
You cannot go where you are going without them
You cannot go where you are going without me