My mind is quiet. I don't trust it when it's this shhh.
I need something new. A view. A weather pattern. A zip code that doesn't start with "5." Anything.
How far will these gallons of gas get us? It'll be like that time we wound through the two-lane highways of Wyoming. Your head leaned towards your window in a moment, lots of moments really, of no-good-reason exhaustion and you only woke, hundreds of miles later, when hail started pop-pop-popping on the hood. We kind of knew where we were going, and that was good enough. Was it Monday or Tuesday, we couldn't remember. Didn't we just hear this song? But look — there — that mountain, different from the last mountain; they're making sure we remember how small we are.
Come with me. Let's get lost amongst new street names.