Start out somewhere you love and leave through the front door like you always do
And let the dark night air overtake you as you are pressing the key forward in the ignition,
And just as the engine grumbles into motion realize
That you don't want to go home.
As you pull away from the curb and orient yourself realize
That you don't want to leave this car,
This perpetual motion machine that is aways in suspension between one place and another,
You want to stay in limbo, you want to stay in flux,
And it's not that you don't want to go home it's just
That you don't want to be anywhere, you want to be in transit
Without a destination or a path.
Step 2: Take a left turn where you usually take a right.
Find a familiar intersection and forget the turn signal,
There's no one else on these residential streets at midnight,
Take the mental map of your small, small world and start filling in gaps
Like that road behind the park that might be a dead end
Or the other end of your best friend's street
Or just take a left turn where you usually take a right
And see what happens.
Seek out the twistier hills where you can speed
At a whole four miles over the 25 limit
And make it feel like mach 2
Flip on the radio to the most auto-tuned pop you can find
And every time you turn onto another street you don't know, turn the music up a little
Until you can advertise your adventures as sound waves through the windows
Scratch that, roll down the windows and try to catch the wind in your fingers
With both hands safely on the wheel.
Step 3: Start to feel a little uncertain
Drive for four full minutes without recognizing where you are
Take six left turns and still end up on a different street every time
Try to catch a glimpse of the street signs as your headlights flash past them
And peer into the dark for landmarks
And after thinking you've finally found yourself three times in a row
Make the stunning realization that all LFP streets look the same
Every time you begin to feel the endorphins of mild panic in your system
Throw your head back and laugh
Even when you aren't sure you'll find your way out
Step 4: Escape the labyrinth
Begin to turn onto only larger streets
Seek out neighborhood arterials and be surprised when there are other cars around
Which might actually know where they're going
Use your well-honed survival skills to support you:
Trying to figure out which way is North is fine
But turning around is illegal
Go ahead and attempt to use the position of the moon as a crude navigational tool
But mostly make turns based on momentary whims
And eventually you'll find your way out.
Discover yourself in the opposite direction of where you expected
Or possibly back where you first began.
Drive down a familiar road and lower the music until you can hear your heartbeat in your ears and then
Step 5: Repeat,
Get addicted to the rush and the bass beat of the next song,
Crave the freedom of letting go of decisions
And the relief of finding home.
Step 6: Exhaust yourself with exultation
Intoxicatingly concentrated within your little metal container on wheels
And point yourself towards home.
Let the music quiet as you tread through familiar waters
And take an unusual path to your driveway.
Roll down the concrete like you've been on your way home for a few minutes,
Instead of an hour and a half,
And sit with the engine off to hear the last song out until it ends.
Climb out of the seat and walk through the dark
And take the usual path to the door. Spend the rest of your foreseeable night
Being predictable. Wrap up the hour you lost inside yourself,
Without telling anyone,
And try not to regret the gas bill.
XXXXX
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