Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together, I’ve got some real estate here in my bag. Each trip is a journey of two teenage boys taking a bus in Pittsburgh. It is a decision. It’s a tired head on his shoulder and looking out the window. It’s a magazine, a headset, a film that played to bend with our voices, inventing dialogue, is a journey by water bottles and snacks tortilla, is a constant stop unknown stations. So I looked at the scenery, she read her magazine … Trailblazer center mentors youth. and the moon rose over an open field Each trip is the memory of another journey and the promise of a trip to come. Or perhaps, conversely, each trip is the illusion that most trips are not necessary, forgotten socks in a suitcase, strange conversations, tests of Cosmopolitan with the minutes of boredom to fill. PCs. Trips now include boxes which are basketball games or simulators are playing people who do what we do not dare to do. Kathy, I’m lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping Every trip is a dream, a sleep and wake to the sound of the miles. A puzzlement. Every successful journey must start from the belief that one is lost. The words “package tour” are contrary. The long journey to nowhere is a letting go, a hope that the end of the rainbow there will be a pot filled with gold, a huge beach and an endless sea. Travel should realize. I’m empty and I’m aching and I do not know why … Counting the cars in the New Jersey Turnpike. They’ve all come to look for America Each trip is an impromptu search. Search America. As Paul Simon. Like Columbus. Each trip is this song repeated a thousand times in my eyes and in yours. A song about love, small fortunes lost and empty guys. Magazines, cigarettes, girls who sleep and moons are slowly emerging Villalba de Guadarrama illuminating. Each trip, inevitably, is a carpool. Like life, inevitably, is a shared life. I am myself and my circumstance. Let us be lovers the song says, well, as usual. Let’s do something, now that we still have time. Each trip is a delay something that haunts us. An escape. Even the return trips. What good look, find something, then if you can not tell anyone What good are new fears but can compare to old I am leaving, I am leaving …but the fighter still remains.