On the Way to Detroit You Pass a lot of Trees

And empty space, and grass. I see a flock of birds, patchy, flying over the cars. Kim is brushing her hair. It's a beautiful late summer evening, highway in shadow, highway now in sun. The working title of this journey is "Jizz." The word jazz, in fact, is rumored to originate from this word for semen or sperm, or cum, load, sausage-grease, spew, other stuff. My reasoning is that I would like to go forward with as much force. Not backwards into jazz history, or backwards into a decaying city, but forward into Detroit, into today's music.