the modern Isis, honey, God, she was priceless

My friends will tell you, I stick my head out of the moonroof often when I drive. Maybe you'll try one day and see - it takes away 20 years of tv and video games from the windshield. For any of you who think I do it for show, you’re right, but only the first time. The rest were genuine…that’s where I found her.

Strangers in the countryside, the ones that daydream out windows in little forgettable towns between poughkeepsie, new york and Tom Quinn's house in connecticut, they will tell you stories. Stories about a wild seventeen year old racing down Rt 44 some nights around sunset; his head peaking out of the roof and his eyes squinted through tears, half from the wind, the other half because it’s the wind. He’d take his eyes off the road for just a second to see her smiling next to him.

His fanfare was a tribe called quest and he left a trail of sunflower seeds. With a wifebeater and a backwards Astro's hat as his tux and a virgin's smile as his corsage - he was at prom with his youth, falling in love with his high school sweetheart.

She's gotten older and she stands him up most days. But he refuses to leave her. He searches. Walking in the mall, or watching TV he knows he is in the wrong place at the wrong time. She shames him. Late nights he stays up wondering where she is, how to find her. Why won’t she come to bed?!

Sometimes he sees her smiling outside at night when it’s raining, drenched but she looks warm in the streetlight. And she sits with him when he reads old birthday cards from his grandmother and thinks about the life that came before those words. And she comforts him when he learns about how cold the world is; prisons, guns, hunger, HIV, tears. She giggles as they shiver together when he turns the hot water to cold in the shower. And she nods her head on drunken nights to beating knuckles as he freestyles with a 40 in his left and a paintbrush in his right.

But she knows when it’s fake and she knows when he’s forcing it. And she came to him a couple nights ago, told him she’s lonely - she’s packing, going far far away, where someone real can have her.

If only she knew how bad he needs her, how hard she is to find around here. He’ll fight though. Once you’ve found her, you don’t just let her leave. You search. You pack your bags, and you fly.
And you dream that when you get off that plane in that foreign city in that land you’ve only dreamed about…she’ll be waiting, smiling, giving you joy today and faith in tomorrow.

(I may have gotten too abstract with this one from the way some people have told me they interpreted it, but I meant "she" to be life - pure, true emotions, boundaries broken down, anything real)... and "you search for her"