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just a night
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prole
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prole
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8
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Sat Jun 24 2000 at 7:57:55
Another smokey
Saturday
, 3am, watching
pickup trucks
shuffle by from the womb of a
franchise diner
. They throw me in back where it's safe to lose myself in a
book
without the petulant
pick-up lines
of drunks, but also without the
line of sight
benefits to my
coffee cup
. No one watching, I forget to look
studious
and stare into nothing. And I think of all the
inebriated nights
I spent here, not alone, the
frantic
teenage exploits of
small town kids
eager to scatter when eighteen rolled around. I catalogue the
waitresses
who've moved down the
freeway
to the next glorified
truck stop
or settled down to get fat and beaten with a boyfriend they thought would make a
good daddy
. You'd think it'd be harder to disappear in a town this small. It's proof of
the ugly side
- no one really cares to know their neighbor outside of a
nod and smile routine
. We run away, no one seeks us out. And when we come back, we find we're
no one
, ourselves.
The waitress comes around the corner, startles at my presence. She makes
the approriate noises
and I placate the graciousness by requesting water. Brazenly, she gives me the glass from the table across the
aisle
. "They didn't
drink
out of it," she promises.
Can a world like this really exist? How does reality not come in and
smack the hell out of
all the people hiding in this dumb little corner,
drugged
by all their dumb
delusions
? I thank her and shove the glass aside, making a
spilt second decision
about the
tip
. Above me, the
smoke eater
coughs and somewhere in
non smoking
, a vacuum cleaner bulldozes through the
silence
, answering its call. An empty pack of
cigarettes
stares up at me, chiding me for neglecting my
habit
. I think of the
prison lit
24 hour supermarket
across the parking lot. I think of crossing that sea of asphalt with a friend, him full of
acid
and sure he was sinking in.
Things change
. I put my sweatshirt on.
printable version
chaos
I have to check and see if they wear panties
I dedicate all my love to your hot inner beauty
things change
They hum like angels
Shari's
How things change
You know it is going to be a strange day when you wake up dead
Live On Tomorrow
Woman up the street I sometimes see
homenode
Writer's block
Because I needed to hear you over the noise
hole
Divorce
pickup truck
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