Above, massive metal birds showering silver wings
over hundreds of miles between Blue Ridge sunsets
and lilac heady nights at the foothills of the Adirondacks;
but this time she drove.
On a trip like this, your tears are your own.
And 14 hours is more than enough time
to study your flaws.
She prefers the drive on either side of pure daylight:
the hours she can bank before the sun is fully up,
or the few wrapped in darkness as the air gets cooler,
this is the best time for music.
She has yet to find a better meditation.
Allowing oneself to travel through the spaces,
guided by the lines, the curves of clefs and cliffs,
it is two trips for the price of one.
Driving cross-country // to “Ride” by Lana Del Rey