trouble ahead

Driving that train. High on cocaine. trouble ahead. trouble behind.
Rain is flooding the streets of Philadelphia, swarming into gutters and washing down toward the abandoned buildings. I watch it out of my sideways window, I can see the building next door and some vines stretching out over the cement courtyard. No doubt about it.We’re all going to drown in our own filth.

Randy newman was playing on the radio. I still can’t get it out of my head. That stupid rednecks song wouldn’t even make it to NPR. Not yesterday. Not in the future. (We’re still rebels with out cause.) Mother’s day was yesterday and I left a message on the machine. Ma called this afternoon. Her roof is leaking, but she got some duct tape so ”everything’s okay for a little while.”

“Back on my feet again.”

The mexi-mart down the block has coffee cakes for fifty cents. The little debbie kind, but I don’t care. I tore off that wrapper right there on the rainy street and gorged. Hungry. greatful. two dollars in my pocket, for a bus ride to nowhere. somewhere. anywhere. tomorrow i’ll go.

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