When the car broke down, we found pause in another city. Salt flats and deer tracks, a sea, naked hills fading silently into mist and waves that rounded rather than crashed over chalked skin. Concrete to dirt trails. Mountains in the distance, bright white and two-dimensional, lakes textured icy-moon. Towering Utah, air thick with running mint sun glow and a melancholy raven dark. Abrupt. We burst through trees to find bright mule’s ears coating hills, framed by gridlocked city far below, dripping snow above and sweeping whistle birds. We slept on couches, on floors, in a tent one night, not anticipating the onslaught of nighttime damp. There was rustling; a nonchalant limbo; finally a transmission change. They went on. Me, I never left.