september 20th, 2018
so imagine a highway.
people bumper to bumper in traffic, the mid-day august heat sweltering and simmering, sinking into the bones of everyone on the road, and it is hot, but it is also calm. some honking horns, but there's the faint sound of jazz lying somewhere underneath, radiating from a car down the street, a city psalm. a quiet balance - fast and slow, push and pull, stop and go.
so imagine a highway, but suddenly the traffic light doesn't know what color it wants to change. green seems like too much of a commitment, but it's not really feeling red either. the slight breeze on the road turns into a swirling gust, ease turns into something more unsteady, peace into chaos. there's frantic beeping, the screeching of tires, a five-car pile up, everything's on fire.
so imagine a highway, where everything is the same, except I am the only one on the road. my heart is behind the steering wheel, and you are controlling the traffic light. instead of a steady stop and go, it is back and forth, red or green, no yellow. my heart races, a bruise on my chest from the whiplash, foot on the pedal, squinting at the light.
twenty miles ahead of us is everything we could be. where you touch me, and everything is bright. where every song we hear is a love song, where you tell me I'm beautiful and mean it. do you want this too? is your idea of fun just stringing me along?
behind me is everything I've come from, everywhere I've been and made it out of - made myself out of. storm clouds, changing leaves, bad thoughts a little too loud, a statue taking a chisel to my stone skin, pieces of who I was left along the lane like breadcrumbs on a trail in the wood.
I promised myself I wouldn't look back, and this - this feels so good.
so, I unbuckle my seat belt, step on the gas and floor it.
