In the Car...

You can't really run away from your family, in the Internet age. You can't "go out for cigarettes"

Never to be seen again.

They'd read about it in your blog the next morning. I'd post about my new apartment in my new town, hoping to get more reads.

So instead, I write. I write into the my website.

I run away, for seven minutes at a time,

And then when the engine is warm,

I look up, push my foot on the brake, my thumb on the release,

And I drive off a cliff, or into outer space,

Or seven blocks north to Harris Teeter,

Whichever comes first