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Road was on me.
Stank dry of standing room only, and long queues to the shitter.
I thought fondly of my dog laying the wrong way across my bed
of hand cut pasta
showers at the right temperature
beds with more character than sheets.
It got me most of the way through.
Last leg of no landmarks,
and blank rolling green can kinda wipe your brain.
18 wheelers stacked 4 high
pass with caution
that's how they got Stephanie.
Road was on me
and I hadn't shot, ate, or watched baseball in as many years.
Phone rings.
Some blank, naked thing I care nothing about.
Screaming about who there what, and when there how.
Tell her to stop putting her hand on the stove.
Should've learned the first twelve times.
Get yelled at.
Go softer
still yelled at.
Splinter was the only song on that album.
Cigarette wasn't even lit before the flash was out
and she had hung up.
Wonder if I'll dream of clouds,
and bumpy white ground
placed gently out of good children's reach.
