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My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean...”

Ride :: Lana Del Rey

She packed all she could fit in a backpack,
nothing more, nothing less,
and ran; down the stairs, out the door, ‘cross the highway,
never looking back.

“Hitchhiking is suicide”, her last friend from the world had said,
“might as well get a rope and just hang yourself. Get it over with.”

Over with.
Over with.
Over with.

Well, he wouldn’t have to know, wouldn’t have to see,
her thumb stuck out, in defiance,
in reverence,
in some sort of jelly-filled desperation.

“Where to?” he asked, through yellow-crooked teeth.

Where to?
Where to?
Where to?

Man, I gotta get out of this town,
man, I gotta get out of this pain.
Man, I gotta get out of this town,
out of this town, and out of LA
.”

LA Song (live) :: Beth Hart

She wanted to lose herself in the mountains,
paint tales of wonder on the sides of trees,
crawl down into civilization long enough for a cold
glass of coke, slice of pie, a smile.

She stepped up into the elevated cab,
a slight shivertrailing to the base of her spine,
laughing to cover up her fear.

“I guess, just to the next town.” she answered, almost in
a half whisper, a half gasp.

And the road spread out before them.

Before them.
Before them.
Before them.

He smelled of Marlboro reds and coffee,
like her father before he left,
same flannel, too.
She wanted to touch his hand,
for it to be his,
for it not to be some kind of a come-on.

But she was used to this, by now,
how the smell of her skin brought out the animal.
Guava, vanilla. and something more.
They all wanted the something more of her,
she opened her mouth wider,
like he demanded,
closed her eyes,
thought of blue skies,
buttered popcorn at the Mann’s Chinese,
double-features,
the last few lines of ‘Blue’.

He dropped off,
crumpled,
torn,
The neon blinking ‘No Vacancy’.

No vacancy.
No vacancy.
No vacancy.

She lifted up her backpack,
spit him out of her,
went to the Pop machine for a cold Coke,
and kept going.
The mountains have to be out there,
somewhere.
She will make here stellar entrance there,
shed her clothes,
her scent,
lose herself in the green and grub.

“If I had enough rope, I might just hang myself,
right now,
here.”

2 thoughts on “She knew she was never coming back :: Two tune Saturday

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