Our hands float against the wind outside rolled down car windows as the winds blow us by. We’re chasing after the cloudy peach sunset above the grass field hills. The radio plays that one song we memorized since childhood. We play musical chairs around the open car doors on some stretch of Route 66 in Arizona. These boots feel comfy on my big wiggly toes. We aimlessly wander through small quiet towns and buy candy from a local Ma and Pa shop. The telephone booths on the corner of each end of town collect dust, signatures, and stickers. We see who can spit farthest down the river from up here on the train track bridge. The gas stations here are always quiet. There’s a gentle hum of cars rolling in the distance. We leap from bed to bed in our rundown motel rooms. There’s no service for miles. We haven’t checked our Facebook, scrolled on Tumblr, or searched tomorrow’s weather for weeks. It’s starting to never occur to us. And it’s always sunny out here anyway. The warmth on our skins. We smoke on the maroon hood of the car. Now, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this many stars out in the night sky before. 


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