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.