My head is spinning from watching the sun come up— and nothing more. Even putting my seat belt on feels strange. Heavy eyes, could be from the ride, more likely from the cigarette smoke. What is this growing day by day? What is courage from another wary baby step? I’ve reviewed the nocturnal blueprints. I’ve buffered my whole way here. What is this clear picture— this road to somewhere that feels like nowhere in particular? What tastes comfortable is seldom fruitful, and my tired teeth have picked through these seeds. Would you like to come along— to chase this buggy in the parking lot, blowing bubbles underwater on a stop-motion throne? Time is on our side here, galloping to the green screen of our choosing. The smells and bells of taking day by day. The scenic route to the same place. The city in my mind. It’s alright. Baby, it’s alright.