- February 22nd, 2004
Close your eyes, and picture:
You're sitting in the passenger seat next to me, driving that old car we could never fix just right.
We're doing 80 on the freeway.
We don't have a destination.
But we're miles from home.
And not quite where we are.
Surrounding us is the desert.
Stretched out for miles on all sides.
Theres nothing but two lanes of freshly paved highway before, and behind us.
And we're not saying a word.
We merely listen to the words of the songs that play on the beat up radio that picks up so few stations here and there.
We took pictures with our instant camera.
The old Medicine Man that sold us the tomato.
The children playing hopscotch in the dirt.
Theres a picture of the snow angels we made in the cracked dirt landscape of the dried desert around us.
Those are my favorite.
Picture us whispering poetry under our breath as we say our vows in front of that horrible Elvis impersonator.
Now we're driving farther west.
More long empty freeways.
We lost the map long ago.
The car stops.
And we're there.
Sitting on the hood.
Staring out at the ocean.
Waves breaking before us, breaking in our future.
The smell of the sea filling our senses with happiness.
We slept there.
Nothing but the sound of our breathing and the water cracking against the shore.
Too bad it's all a dream.
A hopeless little girls fantasy.