1980

riding in your car and everything is broken-the passenger side door is lifted when you close it and the floor, something is wrong, maybe a hole or standing water, it's big like a living room and dirty like carnies lived in it and the radio is playing miss you by the rolling stones, we are smiling inside floating all ramshackle and smoke and cracking rubber from the city to the burbs, the cemetery, and then onto highway 14 where you run out of gas, we walk for so long but the time is great big golden time that passes slow and rich and delicious, us talking and laughing about i can't remember what, you made me promise I would never take acid, we are dirty and splattered with paint, a 16 hour day, the ghetto cruiser, my brother, there is barely covered unease, you haven't gotten there yet, maybe a few more years of searching, the road is a fear-filled place and you are just beginning to wake up to new found clarity, i'm a boy with no particular axe to grind just loving this day and the smell of the approaching night.