My Poor Brain

The beginning of that Foo Fighters song is chaotic. Guitars are going all over the place, with no regard for a melody or a beat or anything. It’s just a free for all.

And then it slides into an organized, recognizable piece of music. It’s called My Poor Brain and I get it.

It’s kind of how my brain feels on a road trip. Short or long, it’s always looking and wondering.

Why is that spot called Horsethief Basin? Is that where all the hold ups took place back when the West was more traditionally wild than it is today? Like, don’t go in there, they’ll take your horse?

Or, if that where all the thieves would meet up after stealing all the horses? Was that their headquarters?

I don’t know why I need to know. I don’t, I guess. But it’s what I ask myself when I have a window, a road and time.

I look at the grasses and wonder why they’re charred. Was it a controlled burn? Or did something happen? Like, something bad?

Why are those rocks different colors than the ones right up the road? And how’d that gorge get there? Did water make it? Or did the Earth?

How come all those hot air balloons are clustered together? Is it a festival? Or like a regatta? Do they even do balloon regattas? Or is that just a good launch pad? And if it is, why is it?

My poor brain.

Where that bush that’s always decorate, mysteriously, for Christmas? I never get up to Flagstaff without looking for it.

And how did Bloody Basin Road get its name ? It’s not far from Horsethief. Are they related? Did some kind of massacre happen in that spot? Or is the dirt there just red, making it look bloody?

Just realized my brain can do this because the car is quiet, filled with sleeping kids who woke up extra early to get to a race. That’s why my brain can wander. And question.

It always does, but I’m thinking it only gets an extended curfew when it isn’t interrupted with constant “Moms.”

It’s borrowed time for sure. Just wondering if I’ll get the time to answer all my burning questions.