Drive

Last night I was driving home at one in the morning with the windows rolled down on my shitty clunker of a car. I could hear all of creation stirring. It was amazing. The fields were purple oceans and the heat lighting was a lighthouse calling me home. My car was a little boat on the waves. Of course, I was a pirate, a romanticized pirate with a parrot that sings Damien Rice perfectly (Damien is new found treasure pqts [pa’que tu sepas]). I felt so alive, like for once that life was good and I was doing what I should be: driving home at one in the morning with all my windows rolled down, thinking I was a pirate.

It’s so easy for us to forget things like nature and simplicity. I try not to myself but last night reminded me that I do sometimes. I mean, the night was so…was so…alive! It was like everything was speaking to me and in that moment I knew everything. I know that that is hippie and infantile of me, but it’s how I really felt last night.

Life is good.

Sometimes I feel immortal.

Maybe I’m just really lucky…

…or twitterpated.

That tends to have effects like finding wonderful piracy in late night drive home.