"Outlookback"

"Outlookback" (2026) Lyrics by J. Widener with AI-assisted music I was eastbound out of Shreveport In a storm that couldn’t make up its mind When the fog came up fluorescent Like a color they stopped using behind Not the fog that fogs do usually Not the grey that grey fogs make More the kind of fog that makes you think The fog itself stayed awake The CB and the radio Fizzed out simultaneously Which statistically felt unlikely Even taking me as me Then the static cleared to music And the music was incredible By a band I’d never heard of Which is still theoretically possible But the hook arrived so instantly It bypassed analytical thought I looked down at the highway And the highway lines were green The signs were almost English The cars were mostly fins The sky was doing lightning In a color not meant for weather The radio kept playing Bands that haven’t happened yet And I was taking mental notes On things I can’t forget Outlookback Outlookback Something crossed a frequency And now I can’t go back Outlookback There was a Buick made of future With a windshield like a moon And a Chrysler doing fin-work Like a fish expecting doom All the concept cars from 1957 Actually built Driving normally through traffic With a certain lack of guilt The road signs said things almost Like the road signs that I know “NEXT LEFT: VANTHORPE JUNCTION” “SPEED MONITORED BY GLOW” I passed a diner called “The Correct One” Which somehow sounded official And a rest stop named “EVENTUAL” Beside a field of silver thistle “Attention all commercial traffic There’s an accident ahead At the junction of Route Possible And the Exit That Was Made Please avoid the intersection And proceed with caution through This report concerns an incident Occurring next week…” The signs were almost English The cars were mostly fins The sky was doing lightning In a color not meant for weather The radio kept playing Bands that haven’t happened yet And I was taking mental notes On things I can’t quite get Outlookback Outlookback Something crossed a frequency And now I can’t go back Outlookback There was a trio called The Fractal Aunts Doing something I can’t name And a solo artist listed only as “The Man Who Looks The Same” Every song was immediately perfect Every hook lodged in the brain Every chorus sounded somehow Like the thing I meant to say I reached to catch the station number But the dial blurred into static mist And the frequency just hummed assent Like it knew I would persist And I thought about Ray Bradbury And the butterfly and the boot And I looked down at my own two hands To see if they’d changed their route My hands were probably still my hands My face close enough to mine But the lightning stayed green at the edges And the road kept glowing faintly lime And the future-finned cars kept rolling past Like nothing here was strange While the radio played perfect songs From a world one turn deranged “Next on your current frequency A track from The Permanent Maybes Off their debut record ‘Before You Were Gone’ Followed by weather updates For western Mississippi And portions of wherever this is…” Then a fragment pushed through the speakers: “Oh that thing…” “That nickel thing…” “Outlookback…” Then the fog went un-fluorescent And the green lines turned back white And the concept cars were semis again And the lightning lost its light The radio fell into static Then returned to something known A song I recognized immediately In a key I’d always owned And the CB said “Break Break” In a voice that made plain sense And the signs said "MERIDIAN 40 MILES" Present tense, present tense But somewhere in my somewhere Where unfinished melodies stay A hook from that impossible station Still circles every day Four lines from a song by nobody From a band that never was Still playing softly underneath The ordinary buzz The signs were almost English The cars were mostly fins The sky was doing lightning In a color not meant for weather The radio kept playing Bands that haven’t happened yet And I filed my trip report under “Things I can’t explain yet” Outlookback Outlookback Something crossed a frequency And now I can’t go back Outlookback Outlookback OUTLOOKBACK Oh that thing… That nickel thing… Outlookback… The Fractal Aunts are playing… The Permanent Maybes are playing… Outlookback… Outlookback… “Outlookback…”