We drove for miles through the Utah desert, past the Rocky Mountains and looked at cities swimming by in a bokeh blur-- I fell asleep to him softly humming to an unknown song while we traveled below the stars.
We stopped at a diner, ate clammy pancakes that weren't worth the wait but we made the best of it admiring the authentic view and pointing out newfound places in the ghetto that didn't exist around home.
I woke up in the backseat to the sound of a scenic rest-stop stream and gazed at the mountains towering over me: silhouettes against the starry midnight sky.
In the following afternoon we scaled plateaus as tall as God with a view of which made me want to die within that very heaven.
We survived for thirty hours on junk food, gas stations, rest-stops, each other's music and cramped, makeshift beds.
Looking back, I would give anything for another thirty hours in that car.
I would notice the differences between each place we stopped ten times more.
I would close my eyes to cherish those pictures in my head.
I would write a better poem about it all.
From a 9-lined stanza to a 1-lined stanza (consecutively).