sleepy

The drive was perfect through Tennessee tonight. So perfect, in fact, that as I approached Chattanooga, I got a poet's high and started writing poetry while driving. Exhileration is a pen, a cigarette, the moon, a passing train, my cerebral cortex and The Postal Service. I was so fucking happy that I couldn't think of anyone to phone or any other cd to play, I wasn't even hungry or thirsty. It was just me and my thoughts, and I was swooned by the wordage and imagery that danced in my head. I'm ready to cross the dream/reality boundary. Goodnight.