I take a short cut over the mountain peak, in windy 30 mph roads through barren aspen forests that just shook off their shroud. Careen down into the valley at sunset like a kerouacian madman, music beating its way out of the little station wagon, not a care left in my lungs. I'm sure there was someone I was before this adventure began, but I can't remember her now, am not bothered by her demons. The nights are cold now but the days are sunshine, the world is a war now, but the mountains are full of awe and I think the answers are lying there just waiting, wondering why we haven't come to unearth them yet.
Something is brewing in that small space behind my ribs.
Just wait.
It's bubbling.
Soon, it'll spill
from my lips.
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