Friday, November 27, 2009

Rainclouds and Cigarettes: Days Float like Dreams


The days float like dreams. That's all I got.

Eastern Tennessee is a bit like Heaven. You gotta see firsthand some of these mountain scenes to believe they exist. It all looks perfect, framed in a windshield. You can't let your reality become the celluloid glass. There can be no bystanders, no passive observers. I am the clenched fists on the steering wheel, the whining transmission grinding the four black tires. I am the road ahead and the sky above and the rearview mirror's lonely, wistful kiss to the disappearing horizon.

Matt splurged and got us a motel room tonight. I feel like undeserving royalty, a cheat, a half-assed trespasser, a thief in a cheap little mansion with nothing to steal. Everything's replaceable. Just another termite in the honeycomb.

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