tennessee 3:3
Later I noted the frequency of fire warnings, and indeed, fires themselves, or not fire but smoke, thick black clouds like houses burning or forests starting up. I wondered if we had anything to do with those. Deep down, I knew we had started them, if not with our rockets then with our sputtering, smoking jalopy, our volatile attitude. The sizzle from the backseat and the pop above and behind were continuous while Jack depleted the gross. He paced himself. He was no longer smiling, not really enjoying it anymore, I didn't think. Take a break, I said. They'll keep. He wasn't even listening. Sizzle, pop...sizzle, pop. In a state bordered by eight others, we left a trail of flaming paper fluttering into dry grass, onto rooftops, setting nine states afire. Maybe this was legal in Tennessee after all. Their encouragement seemed directed. Smoke on all sides, then. The rulers drive the fastest, I thought, stay on the road, the path between terrors. Fatigue singed my temples. With clear air on the horizon, Jack ran out of rockets. Glazed and speechless, he stared ahead. My head hurts, he said. Behind us, the world burned.
move on... 
other roads...
Back Up...
other roads:
