I’ve always wanted to live on the road, you know. I’ve never really had a particular issue with a nomadic lifestyle. Who wouldn’t want to fly in a convertible listening to their favorite music all day, every day? Question is, would she come with me? She’s got one hell of a smile.

Whenever I see her I wonder why she sticks around. Everything I want? Maybe. I feel like I sit on all these words, my own alphabet, but I can never muster to say them. In my head I can annunciate each word perfectly but it never seems to translate. Maybe I’m paranoid, maybe I’m just stupid.

I think now to where I would want to go. The west coast ideally. I like that Coconut Record’s song. Oregon maybe, it rains there a lot. I love the rain. She probably looks fantastic in the rain. It’s decided.

She used to always tell me to call her Alexandria. I don’t know that I ever did. I always called her Ally. I always struggle to figure out what she thinks of me. She’s always so fucking indifferent. All I know is that she’s my muse.