Fuckin 3/4" gravel my heart is filled with, and I'm slinging it by the handful, and I'm building a mountain with it and a moat. Tight and dusty. I am thankful and begging for anything I recognize. I am wound tight as a spring.
Grass covered hills were enough to bring my eyelids to 3/4 mast, and I still drove my train car straight home. I have ten homes, going on thirty. Sleep is fitful and useless.
Once a time ago, I was in Brattleboro, VT.
- Jerk seasoning in free stew
- $2.00 balaclava
- $1.89 40oz LaBatt Blue from a roof carrier
It's five hours away.