No, I don’t want to move forward. I’d like for a while to stay 

as I am. It’s just so hard. And 

I’m so tired. No, I don’t care if the stoplight says, go. It’s 

easier like this. If nothing 

ever changes; if I just stay stuck here, statued behind the 

wheel, unspinning. Even as the 

rest of the world drives by. What if I made a u-turn? I’m not

regressing, I promise. Don’t look 

at me like that. I know you do this too. Dig out those aging 

photographs sealed in dust. Pretend 

for just a moment, you were somewhere, sometime, else. Replay

that same scratched CD you can’t and

refuse to get rid of. Who cares if it’s futile? Who cares if 

it’s all a lost cause? What’s so wrong 

with holding on to the skins we should’ve shed long ago? Isn’t 

this fun? Chasing geese down crumbling 

highways?