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Came into view. Reached, knuckles brushed its side, it slipped away.



Back and forth like that, each morning. Wakin' up - waking up?



Is this it? No, this is Indiana coming into view.

The sight of wretched Boston behind, swimming in the Atlantic, swimming between the eye lids, swimming because it can't soar.

But it could!



Yeah, once, it could, in that grain of unsalted hope, stuck between the teeth, caught between the eyelids of the third eye, in the hopeless future there between a rock and the grin of Sisyphus and Camus in the red Jagual goin' real fast, like Santa Clause and white beard flowin' through the air, white desert snow of white nothing. She longs for him.



That caricature. That behemoth of a child. Stuck there, behind the big toe on the right flip flop going, flip, going flop.



And music to my ears, from this car engine goin' far from it all. Stuck to the woosh of the Western wind, singing my name, singing for the future, cuddling the thick of the hair and singing lalala, carefree. Cuz I'm going back to that Maryland, born anew, that wild Indiana growing old, that California lost forever and there are green flatlands for all eternity.