Seeing Through the Trees

I miss Saturday road trips in my old car. A stick-shift silver Volvo, with cracked leather seats and a busted overdrive. Nothin’ better than Paul Simon, a packed lunch and a book, noon-bound for China Beach. The twisted, turning roads, listening to “Diamonds On the Soles of Her Shoes,” full blast. I’d sing and driveContinue reading “Seeing Through the Trees”