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black and white and top down
“Whither goest thou, America, in thy shiny car…” Kerouac asked the question, but he should have known the answer. We’re going to California, man, where it’s always summer and there are no stop signs, and we’re going there with the top down.
We’re gonna cruise too fast and we’re gonna cruise too slow; the speed limit, that’s for commuters. There’s gonna be a girl beside us, bare feet on the dash and toenails painted the exact color of sunrise. The radio is always gonna be on, sometimes loud and sometimes soft, and the songs will anticipate our mood by seven seconds. And somewhere ahead, along that black stretch of rattlesnake highway, is a diner where the waitress will call us ‘hon’ and serve us coffee in a heavy white cup.
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