Should we change everything, rearrange the furniture, start all over?   It's not too late. It never is. Don't even try to convince me to quit.      The car was packed, the backseat folded down.   Keep an eye on the freeway. Don't nod off.    Promise me you'll stay awake at least until I'm ready.      You look like you need a change of scene, a change of pace.   I think you'll be all right if we drive through the night.      Everything in its place, the furniture is neatly rearranged.   The carpets clean, there is no trace of memories, the little things that stay   through the hours and the days.   The furniture, its colors start to fade, ghosts of tables and chairs.      Try to explain everything. I'll memorize. I'll organize my life into place.   It's not too late. It never is. It never was. At least I know that much.