Live-wire on the interstate, I’m reading the lines in the road. Saturday morning and I’m in two places at once watching Morse code divide the highway. show me the way to the beach this time, show me the road at night. I’m a little Kerouac in the in the car, a little shadow under the light. First deaths are on my mind but I don’t think that’s what the billboard said. I’d rather be the last death of the year for punctuation and quick mourning. There’s something about a long drive that swings me from one left turn to starting over and -- immediate violence.