Up North

It feels like warping to another world, though it’s only a couple hours’ drive up the 75, palms sticky on the wheel after drinking double glasses of roadside lemonade—two for three bucks! You don’t see that kind of deal often these days. In your mind, you’re already by the lake, decoding the willows’ whispers with a book over your face against the whitening sun, surrounded by the ceaseless entropy of stones grinding into flecks of dune-bound sand against the tides. The sacred lilies of the people native to this country remind you of the simple fact that you’re still here, in one piece, up north.