Driving home from the bar,
I find my mind wandering.
I need to remember to write this down
when I get home.
I do have a tendency of getting
so easily distracted.
The fact that I drank some four dollar whiskey
and smoked a bunch of shitty weed
with Joy in the parking lot
outside of the show,
doesn’t help.
I’ve taken this drive so many times that
I can allow myself to
get lost in thought
as the lights that guide my way,
dance along my dashboard
with a steady rhythm.
I think about being back up in the cottage
where I played with the drums
while you tickled the ivories.
I had fun at the show but I
did miss my dancing partner.
I love going to live shows in small towns.
First up was a surf rock band.
I did quite enjoy their melodious riffs.
Then Decrepit Youth played.
When I paid the heavy cover charge of fifteen dollars,
I made sure to tell the guy at the door
that they were the band I was here to see.
Joy’s boyfriend Ace plays in the band.
The singer kept dedicating the songs to the ghost of Danzig.
I giggled along in agreement.
Danzig is not the man he once was.
I was honestly impressed by their set
despite the fact that the lead singer
was wearing a shirt that said,
“Keep Calm I Have Anxiety.”
I’m not one to follow the pack
when it comes to my clothing decisions either.
So who am I to judge?
I’m wearing my camo jacket with the back patch
that I hand painted
the words of Bukowski onto.
It reads:
“I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead.”
I’m saddened to know that I will never get the chance
to sit down and have a conversation with that man.
Therefor I honor him the only way I know how, in spirit
..and whiskey.
People can’t seem to understand me
and that’s okay
because I came for the music.
I never cared to be cool.
Caring about cool
is most uncool.
There’s a difference between
being cool and being well-read,
even though the two traits occasionally cross,
and when they do,
it’s magic.
From what I saw,
you possess both.
Don’t worry I’m not being reckless.
I made sure to choke down a Cliff bar at
the 7-Eleven a block away from the show.
I wouldn’t want to
compromise my innocence.
I also took it upon myself to purchase a snack for the road,
wasabi-ranch sweet pea snacks.
I’m washing them down with coconut water as I
drive down this too familiar road.
I must commend myself for
such strong convenience store purchases.
Especially as someone who has
self-admitted bodega fear.
No one will be able to smell whiskey on my breath now!
Good thing there’s nobody around that
I want to kiss tonight.
With this thought, my mind wanders again
…to you.
The Doritos you packed
in a brown bag for me along with
an Arizona green tea iced tea,
Twix (which I ate immediately upon discovery),
a bottle of water,
and a pack of gum.
You really did think of everything.
You left me outside as you ran into the CVS
next to the bus stop after you realized that
I might get hungry or thirsty
on my trip home.
You handed me the goods right before
I boarded the Peter Pan bus
back to the city.
I didn’t open it until after I boarded.
This all happened after proving to me
that paradise is
more than a place in my mind.
I remember looking down at my palm tree tattoo
and smiling to myself.
Knowing that I put it there
in order to remember to
bring paradise with me
everywhere I go.
Maybe I didn’t need it after all.
I park my car.
I’m home.
