Imagine the circuitry of your veins, a quiet city at night.

 
Long-distance drivers prepare for their cross- 
country runs. Supplies always have to be 
delivered: frozen pizza, wild-caught salmon 
(also frozen), potatoes from midwestern farms. 
Garlic and onions, dental implants, pet food, 
lemons, lumber, and nails. Boxes of Plan B, 
testing strips, emetics, copper wiring. Plush 
toys, Ibuprofen, cement, ears of corn. It's not 
all quiet. There's a constant hum, but like light
pollution, it can be hard to discern. I remember
that highways have tributaries just like rivers—
on some, you might be able to go off-grid 
for a while. On some, there are no houses 
or rest stops for miles and miles and miles.