'May we always fail with the best of intentions, with our hearts always pure and our souls only human.'
I fell in love and things got quieter. Slowly, at first, and now the short days are nearly silent. A frost muffles the traffic in the distance. The phone rings once every night. I answer to catch the three second intro of a collect call from jail: just a friend that misses me, the only one I hear from.
We slept in our cars for weeks while I signed up for school and found a job out of town on the weekends. The nights were still warm then; we slept with the car doors open and our feet sticking out into the open air. We stayed in a B&B for a short while, with a double shower and mirrors on the ceiling above the bed. We spent sweet nights silent with the water running over us, the heavy oak-paneled door shutting out the light, feeling our way towards each other in slow motion. When we couldn't afford it anymore, we moved down the street to a tent on the hot dry cliffs above the river. Everything was covered in a warm red dust. We adored it there, so we thought we'd move into the abandoned house next door. A week of hard labor went wasted when the real world came to kick us out... but we got away with our coffee mugs, two cheap kitschy plaques stolen from the kitchen walls, and a few bunches of sun-ripened grapes off the overgrown vines in our front yard.
For another two weeks we wasted our time in a cheap, dirty motel, until we dropped acid and went for a walk in an early rain. It was dreary, but not cold, as we hiked aimlessly past the jail and through a church parking lot, into a field where the hard rains that morning had slumped the tall, sun-dried grasses into the damp earth. I pulled a luminous, red, falcate leaf from the lone, near-bare tree, and stuck it in his hat like a feather. As we walked back in the dimming light, and another sudden storm took over, my Tamagotchi started wailing, and we stopped under a streetlight behind the jail...
I fell in love and things got quieter. Slowly, at first, and now the short days are nearly silent. A frost muffles the traffic in the distance. The phone rings once every night. I answer to catch the three second intro of a collect call from jail: just a friend that misses me, the only one I hear from.
We slept in our cars for weeks while I signed up for school and found a job out of town on the weekends. The nights were still warm then; we slept with the car doors open and our feet sticking out into the open air. We stayed in a B&B for a short while, with a double shower and mirrors on the ceiling above the bed. We spent sweet nights silent with the water running over us, the heavy oak-paneled door shutting out the light, feeling our way towards each other in slow motion. When we couldn't afford it anymore, we moved down the street to a tent on the hot dry cliffs above the river. Everything was covered in a warm red dust. We adored it there, so we thought we'd move into the abandoned house next door. A week of hard labor went wasted when the real world came to kick us out... but we got away with our coffee mugs, two cheap kitschy plaques stolen from the kitchen walls, and a few bunches of sun-ripened grapes off the overgrown vines in our front yard.
For another two weeks we wasted our time in a cheap, dirty motel, until we dropped acid and went for a walk in an early rain. It was dreary, but not cold, as we hiked aimlessly past the jail and through a church parking lot, into a field where the hard rains that morning had slumped the tall, sun-dried grasses into the damp earth. I pulled a luminous, red, falcate leaf from the lone, near-bare tree, and stuck it in his hat like a feather. As we walked back in the dimming light, and another sudden storm took over, my Tamagotchi started wailing, and we stopped under a streetlight behind the jail...



























