Key West

"I have to get to Key West!" Said Brian through the car window To no one but the expanse of sea Outside. Though everyone in the car heard him. "We're moving in the opposite direction," Said Jane, her eyes lowered to the wheel, That sad, peeling, 70's green steering wheel Too wide for modern cars, modern thought. "It's okay, that's quite alright. Fine, really!" Brian stammered, his ear pressed red Against the seat belt. "The stars will guide us regardless. They know where I am meant to be." The Midwestern gypsy picked-up that morning (Her name tag read, "Panda," and underneath that, "Go!") Finally opened her eyes and looked at Troubled Brian Slouched beside her in the backseat. "What's in Key West?" Panda asked, her eyes Like slits of glowing oxygen. "I don't know, Panda," Brian shifted for her, His blazing focus prostrate and trembling now, Just beyond her spherical scent of flowers, "But I have one of those shaky, glass balls at home With a lighthouse and a shack and a tree Trapped inside all waiting to be glittered all up With a good shake..." Brian had a fever, (and Panda was now loving him underneath his madness) "...and below the watery, glass ball is a fake, moss-covered, Stone trunk with an engraving that says, 'Key West.'" Brian exhaled like a hot air balloon as Panda kissed him on the nose as they made the U-turn.