You Made Me A SomethingI had a thought tonight, around 3:51 AMas I waltzed my way into the gas stati
You Made Me A SomethingI had a thought tonight, around 3:51 AMas I waltzed my way into the gas stationin this dead town with no cars up ordown the highway and lights flashinga constant yellow like there was a riskof somebody even passing through thatthe attendant there must see mewholly different than the woman that will see me tomorrow morning when I inevitably blow through this pack of cigarettes.The man tonight sees me as I actually am,a drunken derelict still awake way beyond hismeans because he has nothing to wake up for tomorrow (or ever again) anyway andhe rings my cigarettes up: $8.27 and I hand him a crisp twenty and I’m sure he wonders where I earned the damn thing to begin with (and thereare times that I wonder the same damn thing).The woman tomorrow will see me hungover,but still alive and ready to take the day on;I will be brave and confident and robust andshe will ring another pack up at the sameprice, but at a totally different cost: she willsee me as someone that I am merelyattempting to be and I think thatboth realities are real andneither of them are andthe roads are as deadas any hope I stillhave left.I still have a fewswigs left andthat’s aboutas far as Ican getthesedays. -- source link
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