So run-of-the-mill. |
The last time I saw her, the Vega rolled down the highway ramp bounced in ruts, spun and churned cinder in the gravel lot where we agreed to meet. Shimmy-shake cough to a stop. Did she remember our days? Daydream delusions as John and Yoko seeing this world through kaleidoscope eyes. We thought we were special, clever, and free the subject of everyone’s envy. How quickly charms change to flaws, we lasted but two years. Insatiable, such empty ghosts, we learned the culture of fear the anxiety of imagined need. See how ordinary? It was money, after all… We ended as hush tone fodder of family and friends. That last day, for the entire world to see had it been watching, in paste faced betrayal her belly swollen with some man’s seed sucking the life from a Marlboro sunken in grime grain vinyl seats. How quickly we devolved to white trash. I reached through the window of a rust eaten door signed the papers that severed in final decree, restraining the rage to hit hit hit, See how ordinary? With a choking smoke spurt and bolt bucket rattle, she left me one last time. We were common, so very common. |