the second gravel road to the right after the pavement ends wait two years and leave from Kansas. watch the way the geese fly in the autumn of ’74. go to Lonnie Poole’s Sinclair Station & Grocery, drink three Miller High Lifes and ask the guy in the orange shirt. become rich or famous, preferably both, then call your mother. send a letter general delivery New York City, New York. or learn to know you will never find me anywhere and take up drugs and group sex; i’ll be the fifth one you love that night. then go backwards until your heart’s innocence becomes a blight, your savaged goddess the reality of me, and directions will arrive in the morning mail.