Mm, Exit 9.
I can see the porch from here.
The bus lets out a cough at 2 a.m.
Rain draws little rivers on the glass.
I count the stations like apologies
I was too proud to ask back.
My jacket smells like diner fries and smoke,
My phone is dead, my throat is tight.
There’s a house beside the highway
Wearing every window like an eye.
I thought leaving would make me new,
Like a haircut, like a match.
But the further that I got from you,
The louder came the latch.
At Exit 9, the house still glows,
Like a phone I can’t pick up,
Like a road that knows.
I ran so far, I called it flight,
Left my name in the bathroom light.
At Exit 9, Exit 9,
I forgive myself one mile at a time.
One mile, one mile,
One mile at a time.
Exit 9, Exit 9,
One mile at a time.
My mother kept my ribbons in a drawer,
I kept her number under “Don’t.”
She said, “Call me when the city breaks your heart.”
I said, “It won’t.”
Now the skyline took my money,
And the mirror took my side.
I learned the shape of being lonely
In a room with too much light.
There are ghosts that use your last name,
There are doors that know your hand.
I was never running from the house,
I was running from who I am.
At Exit 9, the house still glows,
Like a phone I can’t pick up,
Like a road that knows.
I ran so far, I called it flight,
Left my name in the bathroom light.
At Exit 9, Exit 9,
I forgive myself one mile at a time.
The driver says, “End of the line.”
I laugh like it’s not a sign.
I walk back through the parking lot
With the child I left behind.
She asks if we are going home.
I say, “No, but we can try.”
When my key shakes in my fingers,
The porch light doesn’t ask me why.
At Exit 9, the house still glows,
Like a heart I used to shut,
Like a road that knows.
I ran so far, I called it flight,
Now I’m not scared of bathroom light.
At Exit 9, Exit 9,
I forgive myself one mile at a time.
One mile, one mile,
One mile at a time.
Exit 9, I’m on my way,
One mile at a time.