Hang in there

Get there.
Just get there, she said.
Any adequate means of transportation will do.
The wind might blow though the windshield, bugs splatter,
and wheels rattle,
you might have to swerve to miss a deer,
then run over a possum.

But if you get there,
Intact, together,
You can have the picnic.
Take out the platitudes, piled high,
Say, it was all meant to be,
in retrospect.
Footsteps in the sand.

Or, will it be pedal to the metal
and three sheets to the wind?