Journals

  On top of wheels we feel safe assume a plane press down and look straight, no matter which way we leave be it high or free that white-framed green will still stand along the road ahead and behind arched above or crookedly hanging outside of town even inside cities and off interstates a repeating reminder to give us a chance, maybe firsts, no more than seconds to exit or pass - numbers and letters (every one is x) guiding a waiting (unmapped):     dead end quest          adventure         boredom           dinner              death even the final passage could easily come without ever having left. The point being (what’s to be said for leaving)?