Indirect routes up my homestate, through towns I’ve never seen.

 A nostalgic first stop- witches, stitches, ships and caffeine. Salem in a sun shat, painted trees and paper signs- so many people packed in a little pig’s eye.

Up the colonial coast, now pig’s fly- through magic houses in my blue beach town.

 A feast of fall, friends and euphoria steals the season’s final bow.