“Back home is a shithole, but it’s my shithole!” Gabby says.
“This place isn’t kind to me, I’ll go back to the winter I know”
A rainy Tuesday, not sure if winter or spring or nothing at all.
Where can you go? Where can you live? Where dreams grow?
Gabby smiles and I tell her a joke, make her smile for a moment.
I like to make her laugh, to chase away some shadows, sorrows.
Keep hoping the sky will open, and either God or a comet will come.
Either we put the brokenness behind us, or no more false hope tomorrows.
Gabby is a star, and I am star, but we’re suns once eclipsed by the moon.
Light casts shadows across home, unearthly light that lingers in prayers.
I drink my beer, I watch a game on one of the TVs, and enjoy her company.
Passing as she heads north, I south, having lost all patience with soothsayers.
For the first time in ages I’m craving a cigarette,
Something to occupy my mind, my hands,
As my hoodie becomes wet and heavy from
A morning rain, waiting for the train to come.
In North Carolina to catch the Amtrak away
From a place that never felt like home, or
Made sense to me, or had much use for me
And yet so many will wonder where I’ve gone.
The people I used to adore and defend
Have not been a part of my life since graduation,
And I don’t want to see them anymore, ashes only,
A reminder of loneliness and my arrogant sins.
I want to make friends, find a girlfriend, a wife,
But everyone is just passing through, don’t have time,
Can’t get the shit out of their ears to actually understand
What I’m trying to tell them.
One way ticket to city up north, another world, beautiful strangers.
Maybe I’ll find someone there who’ll understand or won’t have the
Weight of the past on their smiles, or demand I be who I was at 17.
Maybe I’ll find someone who’ll stay, have time, actually fucking hear.