you run with the devil
the desert fascinates me. i want to travel constantly, i wish i had the time, i wish i had the money, i wish i had the ability to go on a long trip. if i could hop on the next plane, i'd take it. i'd fly to miami, travel along the coast of florida. then i'd see the missisipi river, and travel all the way to new orleans through the cramped neighborhoods, i'd visit texas and mexico if i could, new mexico and arizona and learn to speak spanish with a bad accent. i'd finally get to see california, the glamour of los angeles and the beauty of the coastline and pacific ocean. i'd venture into nevada and see those valleys and the dry desert and sand dunes. into utah i'd see castle country and salt lake city, through wyoming, colorado, nebraska i'd see those endless great plains. i'd make my way to michigan and i'd see the smokey city of detroit and all those fabulous buildings. in ohio, cincinatti is a remarkable city that reminds me of something quaint but elegant, and maybe i'd finally get to see the rock and roll hall of fame. back in pennsylvania, i'd see philly, the city of brotherly love. on the way to massachusetts i would stop in new york city, buy fake gucci bags for $20 and enjoy a real cup of coffee. finally i'd get to my dream city of boston and i'd soak up every minute of it. making my way up the northeastern coastline i'd sit on the rocky shores of maine and feel the chilly atlantic air on my skin. and then, after it all, i would come right back here to central new york, syracuse, and i'd want to do it all over again.