The Spin

Midnight on an endless road, foxes flirt with the speeding bullet to get a reaction. Stars big and small, align in stellar patterns similar to her iris. Soft, spiraling sounds from the piano play as my mind drifts effortlessly from the present to the future.

Rocket ship feels rhythmically pulsing through my chest, as we rumble through time at high speeds. 3… 2… 1… night night. My mind is convinced that these seemingly realistic nightmares are just alluring dreams so I won’t be frightened. Short break in a tiny town, a huge building is covered in monstrous flashing neon signs.

That explains the creatures ambling somberly out of the tinted glass doors into the dawn of regret.

Gradually drifting back into futuristic scapes never to be explored. Some more time passes. The instinctual, fleshy bond safeguarding the soul is severed, slowly offering it to a quaint yellow-orange Utah Sunrise. Looking out either way you feel small again, similar to peering into the stars, as the salt flats are exposed with a little help from the sun.

Big Rig engines hum quietly, keeping warm the idle midnight vigilantes during their interlude from the open road. Absent from the cockpit, they’re sitting ducks to the light that will soon pick off their openly detectable Z’s.

We drive some miles out on the asphalt surrounded by the bright salty wasteland. SE. 19°. The cold is an immaterial being we should have never turned against. Thinking we needed to protect ourselves from it, but in fact, it has only been trying to protect us from ourselves. Eager minds hesitantly step out and brace for the cold, realizing shortly after, wearing gloves is the least that can be done to add to the experience.

Camera shutters pressed halfway to ensure ultimate clarity. Anticipating sure frostbite, my numb finger clicks away swiftly. Slowly testing the waters, leather should be waterproof right? 1 step, 5 feet, 30 yards. Ripples permeate the nothingness until fading into a sea of mirrors. Snap

Present moments becomes moments remembered, preserved for the audience to ponder this instant’s construction and its post-present trajectory. Sloshing into the sublime amongst these jagged-peaked giants, we are onlookers who can’t help but see with a mental thirds eye view. There is no math equation we can just formulate to understand our place in he center of this cradled saltscape. We release our minds from the improbable task and let our thoughts disintegrate below the shallows of which self reflection is freely attainable. Father time lowers his gracious hand and nods toward our requisite perpetuation.

The wooled relic awaits my return, nestled in the orifice where the usual toothpicks, gum wrappers, and Chapstick get lost in limbo. Heeding steadily toward our eventual destination, we smile at the discovered and wonder about the unexplored.