she must not see

took me down this long way, man. that square glow. i mean that thing was a box, man. peter’s drive. i could have taken central to where i needed to be, which was between two lanes and myself, my neon. it took me down to where you were, and i knew your brother was home by what was on and i knew you weren’t cause the nissan’s gone and you’re not even there anymore anyways but that doesn’t mean i don’t get chills seeing the place.

i need to be new. dye my hair red. i don’t see myself in the mirror, i can’t. jaques lacan tells me totality is without myself, and what i see today i see in twos. thelma and louise, blues brothers, seventies lesbians. my roommate put up a mirror so we can see ourselves from the boots up.

i don’t know why that box took me to you. or why he wants to take me to france. but i do know i took my exit twice in a row. there were glares that obscured and obscure glares and it couldn’t be helped but dammit if i wasn’t piss scared going down the highway with lapses of vision and a wholly whiteness obliviating borders.