wrote from the road.

so last night i wrote from the road.

somewhere between mile marker 256 and 298 i found a blue pen in the junky glove compartment and a hotel postcard and began to gather a few thoughts to put down across the pictures of the little ducks.

this road thing was nothing new.
i found myself cruising the aisles of strange and unfamilar gas stations and convenient stores on a monthly basis because of work.
and when shit like this came to be, i miss my bebeh.

so i wrote:

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october 5, 2007
10:29pm

dear love,

you'd really like this little city the rest of america calls dallas.
i haven't found myself in any of the tourist traps, so some would say i haven't seen much, but what i have seen you'd appreciate.

bebeh, we would come here and hold hands and be in love like we planned years ago when we first began doing this.
in that little room, on that almost-mattress.
you pretending to come through and watch hotel rwanda
and me pretending i knew all about the crisis.
well...i did know everything, but i didn't really care at that time.
and when i began yawning, it was just to cover my face with my fingers so i could secretly peek at your pulsating zipper.

who knew i'd miss you this much?

you in atlanta
me in the rest of the world

maybe next year we can find ourselves in the same place.

regardless of what you've come to understand about me:
you are 78% of the reason my freedoms have been compromised.
who would have thought it?

from that little room
to this world!
who knew?

all the stupid things i do have absolutely no reflection on how i feel about you.

i miss you
i love you
meet me when i get home, bebeh.

p.s.: i woke up with the pen and postcard in my hand and the camera on the dashboard. i caught the sunrise for you.
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so last night i wrote from the road.