The once lavender minivan rumbles down the twisting highway. Smiles and drinks are exchanged under blank skies.
Pure white clouds of pungent smoke billow out from the windows, suspending themselves in midair. It reminds us of the heroes we idled in comics, floating, and soaring up to salvation. Will we ever go upward to join them… I doubt it. I suppose it doesn't matter, this is all the heaven I need.
Classic rock plays from the blown out car speaker, and seeps out of the wide open panes of cracked glass, mixing with the swells of haze. The air is humid, and seems to suck the moisture straight from our tanned arms until they are scaled, like the snakes who hope one day to be a mighty serpent like the grey and yellow road.