The Cardinal Nomads: 05-10-12

In Uncategorized on May 10, 2012 at 1:13 pm

One direction brought me life,
The other, brought strife,
One gave me a wife,
And the last, cut deeper than a knife. . .

We hove too down rural roads and byways, drinking forgotten swallows of beer out of garbage cans along the way, eating gas station and convenience store fare until we were fat and bloated. Then, it was safer to split up and give up. I smelled bad, and there weren’t any places to shower, you always thought we would catch a break somewhere between Tennessee and Georgia; I never wanted to believe. . .
“Do you have any ID?”
That was the cops in Mason, to me.
“No. my wife took everything, when we split up in Atlanta” I replied, kind of upset, in reference to you.
You weren’t really my wife but it sounded better that way.
Then, without missing a beat:
“Where y’all headed to tonight?”
That was the one I could never lay my finger on. You see all my life I thought that opportunity lay over the next hill, down the next blue highway, and we blindly led on into the neon clad undercarriage of toothless lament, and strange mishaps. It was just easier. Sure we drank our share of antifreeze, but it mattered little anyway, as we had each other no matter how many times we were arrested or beat up.
That was all anyone seemed to care about, the ‘where’ part, who cared about where? I had stopped caring long ago, so that it all became the same place in the end. . ..

She was late and knew it. No matter how much she had planned or spent, the plane was delayed. TSA had screwed her over, now she would never make NYC, no matter how fast her business class took her there. She was rigid, frigid, wrought, and fought. The simple fact is that you can’t mess with time. If only she had left the complimentary champagne at the room, quit shopping an hour early NYC would be that much closer. She sat in the hotel bar drinking Goose on the rocks, and staring down her half empty pack of Benson and Hedges Menthol 100’s. It made her mad that the filters, so pure and white, became smeared with her lip stick. It tortured her that she was going to miss all of her people tonight. There was no way she was going to be the center of the room no matter what. That was the problem. She could handle being late, but not if her plans were totally upended; all those beautiful people and her beautiful plans. Nothing could fill that void in her life, not booze, or people. It was her. She had so much money and beauty. As time eroded both, she had less to hold onto. That’s why she still needed safety of the center of the room, time seemed as if it couldn’t touch her there. . ..


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