Road Trip

April 22, 2011
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There are lights along the Interstate you know
garish orange lights that dot my path like little beacons
beacons I do not wish to follow
but because of what the map says,
I do.
Towns are one place at night driving in
and another place driving out in the morning.
Old tumble-down motels where you lock the door tight but sleep next to the window anyway
and all night long the semis trundle past and the light hits the glass and the world invites you
to a dream.
You're only as safe as you believe you are.

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