Route 101 South


A cold car whirs to a start.
Bags packed and loaded;
Fired forth down South
To a sunny California -
Strong Redwoods
But they are a cursed image
Burned-
Not etched into my mind,
Like a lichtenberg figure-
From trips gone bad
In a car with the man
I've always called "Dad"
But today I call no man
(I need no) dad.
Because years of torment,
They lead to a hatred
Of all things man and dad
I still love myself, however,
Although I am a man.
Just because I can,
I will continue to
Do all I can
To avoid
Being
Like
Him-
Not just because I can-
This is who I am.

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This Poems Story

As a young boy, I spent the summers with my father. He would pick me up in Oregon and drive me to my grandmother's in California. We would drive south along Route 101. I do not have a good relationship with my father due to years of mistreatment and mental abuse, especially during these trips.