Push Pins

the push pins drop from my cork board. echoing still, i emerge. in hand, the world map torn from the sun stained spot i left behind. i descend to find her anxiously waiting. we transcend into solitude. easing quietly into the sound of the waves as they rush over us. mesmerized by the blue of the water splashed over the paper. i map our destination. transfixed in the blue, distance is overwhelming.

[Ericka Otterson]