I hear the train rushing through this podunk town, and you immediately go rushing through my mind. I remember dirty sex and the smell of campfires. I remember how warm January felt as I pressed desperately into your embrace, your fingertips tracing words along my spine and your lips pushing lies across my skin. We would suck down cigarettes for air, emerging from our mindless haze just as the Number Three was making its way down the track. You’d line rocks along the rail and I’d cower behind you until the very last car rolled past. You’d pass me a bottle and we’d stumble back for more of nothing as somewhere in the distance, a long and lonesome whistle would sound.
Every moment between us was a beautiful trainwreck, too horrible to celebrate but too spectacular to ignore. And the wreckage haunts me even now.
Dootsie 