I want to be the kind of woman who would drive all night
with windows down
looking for salt air to yell, “stop!”
As if I had lain in a dungeon for years,
this first sight of ocean, better than food.
I want to be the kind of woman who would barely park between the lines, leave sunscreen on the seat and sprint down the sands.
Never heeding the beach towels and castles —
there is reason they call it Baptism.
