when the open road is closing in

do you want to go on the road. you replied yes. remember that day. it was grey out. no sun. no moon. it was like a grey wool sweater that stops right over your eyes. we couldnt pull it down. it was just stuck. i could breath. i didnt want to. i did.
so we got in the pick up. white. not dirty. not clean. i couldnt figure how you were going to be able to make it on the road without any drugs. you have done it before. i believed you. as i do. we pulled out of albany. finally. for me anyways. you always leave. the difference is that you always come back. i understand. leaving and the desire to go back to somewhere familiar. but cant you just wait it out and make where you are familiar. what does the drunk town have to offer. besides company. in misery.
im missing the point of the story.
i dont remember if you made me feel real. or if i just felt different from the normal drags of living. its not like we were living. we were just smoking. and denying it.
smoking. drinking. denying it. it would hide the bruise. the bruise that we are as people. the really bad bruises. the ones you get when your skateboarding down jefferson. you cut it too hard to the left and you bite it. i felt like calamity jane falling off my horse. you fucking asshole. you were supposed to be wild bill. but instead of filling the roles of characters. we laughed. we laughed so hard. in the middle of the street. i dont think i ever saw you laugh that hard again. or before for that matter. i couldnt walk. but when we got back. we drank our tall boys. that i saved from the trampling steer. that we paid for with the last of the pennies in the jar we stole from the man who owned the flat.
i still have that bruise. when it gets cold. my right hip has the stain of one failing moment.
this again is not the point.
you know im not afraid of trains.
so as the story of that grey day continued. we loaded up. we didnt really have anything. a skateboard. our moleskines. some beer. a couple pillows. a blanket. you had that favorite hat at the time. i think you stole it from bryan. well it wasnt stealing. you traded it out. i couldnt help but love your ability to love him. it was disgusting. the day that you were raging pissed because you found out that he would let me go out after three days of smoking. just to get twenty more. i have a real hard time trying to pick the story that backs your rage up with evidence. maybe it was when i was at 98 central. with that guy. you met that guy. he came over to the flat that one time. i gave him a check. from ann taylor loft. it was a paycheck in the amount of 265. he gave us like 160 worth of rock. it was piled up on the elliot smith record. he gave us that e that night. i dont think that it really worked. whatever. but it was that guy. back to your rage and why. i had gone out with twenty dollars. it was a sunny day. i was in bryans moms van. that red one. i used to landscape that whole thing after making a run. just in case i dropped any. i actually found a rock once. thats how i could justify it. i dont know how i justified coming back with sixty dollars that sunny day. but how do you think i got us that eighty worth for the forty after that long walk across dove down the parking lot and into arborhill. well. im elluding to the fact that i got so sick of having to share my drugs. and such small amounts. i would put out a little. put a little in my bra so that way i could sneak some more into the spoon full of vinegar while you guys werent looking. there was that one time that bryan and i had just got a gram. i cant go further on that. im too cold and my heart starts to race whenever i think of that time. i actually almost died that night. it sound make believe when someone says that line. i dont wish it was make believe. i am okay with having lived this way.
i could fill a book with these shitty drug stories about the four of us. but i dont want to cry.
yes. i would cry. i hate you. but the fact that you make me feel so strongly makes me wonder.

the day is still grey.

do you want a beer?

yes please darling.

are you really going to start calling me darling?

no. maybe bandit.

bandit?

yep. i know i let you take it. but your still a thief for conning me into handing it over.

what are you talking about.

my heart darling. i dont know where your keeping it. but there best not be a scratch on that bad boy. cause when i get a gun. im gettin it back.

good luck buster. your heart isnt worth a dime. its as good as garbage.

one mans trash. darling.

we drove and drove and drove. all the way to the dive bar at the end of the road. that was my favorite part. we made that one wrong turn in whatever god forsaken town we were in. and fate leaves us with a pool table, cheap beer and juke box that would skip on every song except for neils. we got pretty drunk that night. which is rare. you and i never get drunk. it was the road. the fatigue. the lights. the dust on the lights. but if it wasnt for the dust on those lights. we wouldnt have had enough money to get the next town. you convinced them. i came up with the idea. but you sir. were always the sweet talker. especially drunk and after hearing neil for four hours. you made them know that we were reliable folk. you said.

we'r not runnin from the law 'r nothin. we'r just trying to make that buck to keep on goin to the next town. my sweet lil pretty momma needs to get to cedar city to pick up her kids from er mommas home. pretty home. we'r short on the dollar and it would be the deepest sincerity if you would let us polish this place up for the nex batch a young lovers who come strollin through here on ther more well planned road trip.

and we cleaned. the glass. the bottles. i scrubbed the toilets and you took care of the cigarette butts. i dont think i have ever been in a place that was so beautiful covered by such grime. except maybe richies. but maybe it was only beautiful because of the grime. that situation was different though. it wasnt dirt. it was just broken hearts. i dont think that you have ever given me anything that will last. except for richie. no one close to me has ever died. no family members. no friends. just richie. he will live forever with me.

they paid us 86 dollars and a case of pbr. i didnt tell you this that night. but im sure you knew. i took 200 out of the register. i put it in my bra. thats why i didnt take my top off for that trucker we passed. i always love to make a lonely mans evening. just not at the risk of a good get away. i knew you. and i knew i had to kill you.

we crashed in the back of the truck that day. you were sleeping like a baby wrapped in its mothers arms. except for you it was the road. i whispered to you. i got out of the truck and headed to the train. i had never actually hopped a train before. i had know idea where it was going. i just needed to not be in the same town as you when you woke up. i felt born. i felt free. from the drags of my heart. i rode until i found the train slow enough to jump. my heart pumped. was i supposed to roll. stand. fuck it. dont be a fucking girl about it. jump. i rolled down this hill. with every turn it felt like shedding a year off my soul. I headed to the bus station. took the soonest scheduled trip and left.

i make up your voice in my head. i have pushed you so far out. your dead.