[poetry] Dead End Road Trip
Aug. 1st, 2010 04:05 pmShe had the day off from the market, I was off work by noon,
So we had time to get the hell out of town for awhile
(if only for a little while),
Smoke some, talk some, laugh some, maybe even drink some.
We drove up Wheeler Avenue, past the ponds and the farms,
listening to Radiohead and Spacehog, talking about our idea,
our crazy idea of moving out to Ohio (oh my, Ohio!).
I bummed another Newport off her and rolled down the window,
exhaling the smoke, trying to make the best of a situation.
Who knew where the hell we'd get the money,
when neither of us made more than the other, and I had less than her.
After all these years we'd met up again,
Under the same circumstances of having nowhere interesting to go.
I'd been defeated and was taking my time making a comeback,
And she'd been drifting aimlessly for a few years.
And as we hit North Orange, rolling to a stop at the intersection
with one single car up the way, a rustbucket made its way down the hill.
Both of us wanted to pull out and turn left towards Warwick,
but instead we decided to just sit there for those few long minutes,
waiting for that car to go by.
And eventually we pulled right instead, heading towards Royalston,
back down to Tully Road, and back home.
A short road trip, if anything, barely longer than an album side,
one, maybe two cigarettes' worth of a drive.
We'd be heading down to Amherst that weekend,
Going to see Ben Folds Five at Pearl Street in Noho.
We didn't need to go far today. Just enough to exhale.
Just enough to make the best of our situation.
So we had time to get the hell out of town for awhile
(if only for a little while),
Smoke some, talk some, laugh some, maybe even drink some.
We drove up Wheeler Avenue, past the ponds and the farms,
listening to Radiohead and Spacehog, talking about our idea,
our crazy idea of moving out to Ohio (oh my, Ohio!).
I bummed another Newport off her and rolled down the window,
exhaling the smoke, trying to make the best of a situation.
Who knew where the hell we'd get the money,
when neither of us made more than the other, and I had less than her.
After all these years we'd met up again,
Under the same circumstances of having nowhere interesting to go.
I'd been defeated and was taking my time making a comeback,
And she'd been drifting aimlessly for a few years.
And as we hit North Orange, rolling to a stop at the intersection
with one single car up the way, a rustbucket made its way down the hill.
Both of us wanted to pull out and turn left towards Warwick,
but instead we decided to just sit there for those few long minutes,
waiting for that car to go by.
And eventually we pulled right instead, heading towards Royalston,
back down to Tully Road, and back home.
A short road trip, if anything, barely longer than an album side,
one, maybe two cigarettes' worth of a drive.
We'd be heading down to Amherst that weekend,
Going to see Ben Folds Five at Pearl Street in Noho.
We didn't need to go far today. Just enough to exhale.
Just enough to make the best of our situation.