mountains

i'm pretty sure
the mountains that shrug
themselves blue 
over there 
*pointing*
are getting taller
since i was a little
girl in a back seat 
being tossed between them
as my mother drove with
two hands on top
of the steering wheel--
on the way home yesterday
we wondered what it
was that makes a mountain
a mountain--
a certain height maybe?
an achievement
of a particular number of trees?
upon looking it up
i've found that they gave
up classifying mountains
(in the US at least)
nothing profitable
about mountains 
especially with all
these damn wild life protections
i sit in the middle
of the back seat on car rides
because i don't mind behind
caught between two other people
but it also means that
i can't rest my head against
the window & think about
what it would be like
to open the door &
roll out--
they're an illusion 
you know?
the mountains--
if i really got out 
they'd only be the size
of stepping stools--
up to me knees maybe
like the little plastic step 
my dad uses to change
light bulbs in the bathroom
if there's no requirement 
for a mountain 
do you think i could
be one then?
see if i sit out 
in the backyard
no
someone else's backyard--
kneeling maybe or 
raising my hands over 
my head--
would they mistake me?
put a plaque at my feet
& name me
mount honeysuckle
mount scabby knee
mount girl-who-cut-her-hair
mount wishing stone
what the difference between
a mountain & a wishing stone?
i'm thinking about the appalachians 
& how they're getting smaller
& if god is whittling them down
so that they can be used
as desk paper weights
or maybe flat enough
to get skipped three times
in the creek before
dunking deep down between
algae & crayfish--
the mountains that we drive
through on the way back 
to kutztown don't have names
& i feel bad for them
because no matter
how much they ache & grow
no one hangs a dog tag from
their neck--
they build bridges &
gazebos by the creeks
but no name--
does the mountain look
up at the clouds &
ask them--
saying-- 
give me a sign as to
what i should call myself 
but the clouds (as usual)
just laugh
that's what they did to
me when i asked--
the clouds are useful for many
things but not for answers
they move too fast--
swarming the faces
of mountains--
these white lacey veils
are the mountains getting
married maybe?
turning grey in their faces
as their marriages 
erode same as their bodies--
oh mountain if you 
promise to love me
i can find you a name
& i will sit at your
base every day until
we both turn to bones--
your limestone skeleton--
my calcium carbonate 
femur & vertabrae
i'll pick  flowers
from behind your ears &
kiss your moss pebble feet--
oh mountain is this what
it's like to be love?
i just want someone like
you-- someone who 
doesn't mind raising one
hand to hold 
the sky up 
when it's your turn--
i'll climb up you & help--
someone whose old trees
could dig their roots
deep into my back--
oh i just want to 
find you in the horizon
the pink-orange of sunsets 
like halos over our heads--
i could stay here
i could stay here 
teach me how to reach
i want to be a mountain 
with you
& when they see me
out the car window 
they'll remember that
i used to occupy back seats 
used to swallow paperweights 
used to skip
stones three times
before they dropped heavy
in the creek water--
can a mountain drown
if it's not careful?