You bobby-pinned your auburn hair back
As we crossed over the washington state line in my grandfather’s car

We were fleeing the scene of a california coast line,
Where we buried our dreams among the gridlock and concrete

Barefoot, we pulled off the road, and stepped into the summer night
And we drank greedily of greenery and open air

This was not the time or place to address
The emptiness that hung around us

Or how the end of this trip birthed us with uncertainty
Of what to do next