there is nothing that the road cannot heal.

Restless feet, coffee stained cafe couches, the need to abandon security for the open road, potential lovers who will stare into your eyes as though creating a masterpiece, fields and hills and cities and the sunset from a hired-car hood on a cool beach and the sunrise from a hotel window, crinkled worn sheets, warm toes, hopeful breaths from the twin pillow indent, splayed hair catching the sunspangles, the need for close knit words describing every sight sound smell, because elabourate just doesn't fit, wide-eyed wonder at the sheer diversity when moving forwards everyday, every second, stopping long enough for a few snaps, a postcard, a coffee, a brief jazz fueled encounter in a smoky afterhours basement.
Songs for the road, beating from your car window, moving in your gut.