It was runway like, like the varied runways which are akin to our lives, starting points to journeys of a thousand miles or a few steps further into the hyper space of our anxieties - we take off - we fly - we land, sometimes we crash in loud napalm like explosions of soul wrenching Vietnams, horrific and sometimes we come down sweetly like perfect landings in calm airports with arrivals accompanied by benign soundtracks of easy listening encouragement and positivity and God knows where that asphalt will take us on the inner journeys of soul except this one road was like one wide desert road in the arid wastelands of our minds that resemble the desert mesas and playas of the Hopi South West - it was much more than traditional aviation - it was an aviation of the heart set to compass points to God knows where but it eventually led us to where we wanted to be. I was looking for the outpost where all our frailties resided since the Fall and I wanted answers. Doesn’t everyone? No 747 would take me there - I realized that much, and that’s were the danger and the realization of a prize of salvation at the end - where it lay, where it resided and where we stop at the point somewhere on a chart or map that denoted the Area 51s we had created in our forbidden zones - our taboos - our Groom Lakes, our restricted zones where we could go but where there was no certainty that we come back alive. The dangerous things were the soul vampires in the deserts of our imagination and that was very frightening especially when the aircraft you were frantically flying to that runway you spoke about all of sudden decided to run out of life energy fuel. How’s that for soul sucking? She pulled up to me on the road in a dilapidated Model T and she asked me if I needed to be driven - since places in this place are quite far apart - I said yes, and I assumed she was part of the whole scheme of things. And she was. She was young, and she wore a Rosie the Riveter kerchief on her head, she had auburn hair and she was freckled. She wore a hand me down floral dress and a punk rock t shirt and combat boots which made her look adorable and dangerous at the same time. She was sweet and she drove that long desert expanse using her long knees to steer the truck as she played a ukulele and sang songs of innocence in a Kentucky accent. We arrived at the place. It was desolate.