Sunday night

Mar 10

Westbound now. Towns in valleys—rooftops, pines, and steeples. Kevova, Ceredo, Heartland, Intermodal Gateway. Silver dusk in the golden hour. Mountain towns and steel bridges. Grim factories. Ashland next 2 exits. "Kentucky, Unbridled Spirit" reads the watertower.

(Later.)

Orange sunset and ice-blue sky fading to black and a scatter of stars above. Listen to Phosphorescent. Listen to Illinois. Truckers slow on the upclimb with red brakelights smearing the dusk. Radio relay towers blinking on and off. Train crossings. Trailerparks with trailers burnt to the ground. A little snow in the air but road's clear, steadyrollin’ west. Black car pulls on up ahead, vanity plate reads, "Nobody."

(Later.)

"I fell in love again/all things go/all things go." Night and darkness. Music loud. Empty highway. Milemarker 84. The lights of a city on the horizon. Lexington Keep Right. Richmond Knoxville Keep Left. "Even in his heart the devil has to know the water level/are you writing from the heart?/are you writing from the heart?" Signs for Transylvania University. Exit 113. Newtown Pike. Georgetown. Frankfort.

(Later.)

One of the best feelings in the world is checking into a motel after a long day of driving and you turn on the light and, surprise, it's not a total ruin. You take a hot shower and put on clean clothes then lie down on the bed and the strain on you lightens and you go, "Ahhhhhh."