The Beautifully Worthless | 
"It was after nine, and on the horizon there was still a strip of white sky left, with the night coming down all around us. I raced toward it, and when I came over the top of a hill, on the other side the white strip got bigger. It was like someone was holding a gap of daylight up, as if it were the bottom of a fence--and if I was quick enough, I'd be able to squeeze through on my stomach, out of this world and into the next."
"Who plots a way out, what kind of person has it in them / to stand before a mirror, straight-razor in hand, / and cut the rut from their life as if it were a malignant / penny-shaped birthmark on the side of their neck?"
"I can't believe I'm already in Indiana and it's only the second day of my trip. It's like I'm stuck inside a calendar that banks give away. The same white picket fence running beside me, the same billowy cloud hanging like a piñata in the distance."
