Am I her bruise? I wonder this under the halogen canopy lighting glow. In the stillness of night pumping four dollar-a- gallon gasoline into my truck. glug- glug- glug. road trips and bruises are an extravagant expensive. Soon, i fear we wont go anywhere at all. bruises and memories fade. will she remember me?
I prefer to pay inside because enhances the two a.m. twilight zone experience. the people inside are crazy and smell like cough medicine and cigarettes. I feel i am seconds away from an armed robbery but nothing ever happens. there are zombies picking out candy and porno magazines devouring them like fresh brains. A girl with a blank stare. the floor is dirty. choosing the right energy drink is crucial. and let me ask you, at what age should one stop mixing every soda together to form the 40oz concoction we used to call " the suicide " as kids. I want to tell this guy at the dispenser, holding his cup under one then the other, back and forth. Dr.Pepper i believe is well enough alone (there have been extensive tests and studies) no need to hit it with cherry coke and mountain dew too. But it's his gut, his lost childhood. I open the glass cooler door avoiding my reflection and choose a red bull. Another form of suicide.
I kept the motor running in the truck, which is illegal. An empty car left running outside a convenience store is called a get-a-way car. I just call it my ride home. No cops. No hassles, I put the truck in gear. Red bull sweating bullets in my hand. Humid nights in south florida. Another then another then another. This is how it goes. I have to go to work in a few hours. I want to live somewhere where a scooter is a viable means of transportation. Somewhere like Italy or the Florida keys. A mint green vespa and the wind in my hair.. Aviator goggles and 5 dollars worth of fuel taking me 80 miles per the gallon. Every night a trip there and back there and back. This is how it goes.