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trees cup the seemingly endless road to me it is primal and lonely especially now, when it is framed by sun-paint sky and sharp hills angle up from the road with clumps of grass reaching up on either side i know them from a passing distance those hills hold my daydreams slipping away as i look out the window, wondering as i go somewhere i will reach in another life, approaching another land far away from here and now if i don’t look at the clock time dissolves into no measured meaning beyond that in my head what must it have been like to walk the fifteen kilometre distance in a time before cars? an endless well-known stretch of uncaring land (whereas i have the choice to opt out of knowing for my own sanity whether that is right or wrong) perhaps it would seem different if i were the driver but i have almost-freedom in the cold, still passenger’s side before i arrive at another day of my life, school, an eventual change of seating in this car again, a car of my own and a tax bill and a house i can’t stop from coming but right now i am not there i am here i am now i am tired of trying to cast myself ahead