here is what I want
I want -
I want it to be 70 degrees, maybe, sunny, yeah, maybe a cloud or two, but the best is blue sky all the way to the horizon.
I want -
a full tank of gas in my car and, I don’t know, a little money in my bank account. Not enough to get crazy, but just enough that I don’t feel scared, just enough that I feel safe. I ain’t gonna get greedy.
I’m gonna spin you and you’re gonna pick a direction and we’re gonna get lost, take a road or two we ain’t never taken before. Roll the windows down, turn the music up, maybe I’ll sing to you a little, even, verse chorus verse. We can talk if you wanna, laugh a little, or just watch the world go by in easy silence. Maybe all three. It don’t matter.
What matters is the road, and the person you’re with, and did I ever tell you I had a first date like this once? It lasted a week. A week, can you imagine? A week, and a thousand miles, and I’ll never forget that date as long as I live. Sometimes when I think of shit I’ve done in my own life it seems so surreal, so far away I have to wonder if I’ve dreamed it.
This - this ain’t a date, or it doesn’t have to be, or we don’t have to give it a name, exactly, just let it be whatever it is, whatever we are to each other. Let’s don’t worry about that none. Instead, let’s drive till we get tired of it, drive till the sun creeps down over the horizon and it gets dark. Let’s drive to somewhere that the air smells different, the voices just a little left of familiar.
Maybe we’ll see a mountain, maybe a lake, a desert, maybe a whole goddamn ocean, maybe just nothing but miles of flat earth and corn and soy fields. Stupid tourist traps, national parks, casinos. Lookout Mountain. The world’s biggest ball of twine or wheel of cheese. Buy some strawberries or figs from barefooted kids at a roadside stand, eat them with the juice dripping down our chins as we drive.
Let’s stop for a meal at some tiny cafe in some tiny town where everyone immediately knows us as outsiders. Let’s eat terrible snacks out of vending machines, cold sodas out of a cooler in the back. When we get tired we’ll just fall where we lie, get a cheap motel room in the middle of nowhere and curl together in beds too tired to sleep, laughing at each other in the dark, the sick yellow sodium lights from the parking lot breaking through the gap in the curtains as our only illumination. I don’t need to see you to know that I love you, anyways.
Let’s just - get lost for a day or two, in each other and in ourselves, in the roads and in the sky, yeah? Let’s just - go. Can we go? Please say we can go.