Booked me a flight. 

 

And I’m laying here on a bare mattress and I’m sad because I’m going to miss Arkansas. Quick decision. Lightning illuminated the room while I lay there watching storm clouds crawl by. No thunder. Cicadas filled the thick summer nights, concrete bridges faded into green rolling hills. Dogs fought. Struck antique matches for a flame or a smoke. Glass under boots forgotten letters abandoned houses. Weathered Chinese shipping crates and empty railroad tracks. Hop out to open the rusted gate, foot on the bottom rung. 2 dollar creek. Graveyards. Trail of tears. Rocks attack my nerves while the log hides me from the suns arms. Light bounces off water and heats up my face and chest. I watch bugs silently. I’m scared of ticks and what people do with trees. Came out here for peace. Played pool at bars learned how to adapt under new circumstances. I’ll sell another piece and make another home.