The highway sets the traveler's stage.

Wanderlust.  They all say it.  Wanderlust.

They whisper it on their indie blogs and behind the dusty shelves of secondhand bookstores and they all say it.

Wanderlust.

Wanderlust, or just an urge to run?  Ain't that what you do when there's no where to hide and fighting back never had a fighting chance?

"Let's get a silver bullet trailer and have a baby boy."

Maybe I would miss you less in a trailer halfway across the country.  Then again, maybe I would miss you more.

He and I could run away together.  I always did run to him when you didn't want me.  I always ran to him and tried to convince myself that the two of us were still something special.  This time around was not much different.  I still called him up but this time the lust was gone and I couldn't lie to myself anymore.

But he and I, we could run away together.  We could buy a trailer and see the world.  I'd read about you though.  I'd see your name in the papers when you made it big time and I'd still name my son after you.

But he and I, we would be okay.  I'd let him laugh at my dreams and tell me how he'd be better off without me.  I could be what he wants, and when he touched me I'd close my eyes and pretend that it was you.  And when we finished making love I would hold my son to my chest and whisper lullabies in his ear.

I'd sing a song of longing and loss, and about how I hoped he'd grow up like you instead of his like his daddy.  I'd show him your picture in the paper and I'd tell him the story of how you stole and broke my heart.  I'd tell him about the magic you held in your eyes and in your voice and I would teach him how to dance.

And I'd write you letters.  One for everyday of my life without you.  I'd never mail them though, I'd tie each one to a red balloon and let it slip between my fingers, and every balloon, every letter, would take with it a piece of my soul until I was nothing but an empty shell.

"All exits look the same."