Uncrossed

The tires of the car unroll over concrete roads

The city of Asheville is unseen, mountains shield my view

Unknown to that place

I piece the Kit Kat back together with my teeth as luscious green mountains unbecome deserts

I unwalk through the canyons, my tent collapses. I unsleep. The stars unmove

The tires of the car continue to unroll over roads

I unsee my brother. We unhug. We step apart

Miles of conversation turn into mouths inhaling words back from frequencies of sound

I finally unpack my backpack

We stand in our empty house

Cardboard cubes unbox