It’s all about places with you
Not who you’re with
It’s all about revelry
I am an accessory for your charm
Not a partner arm in arm
It’s all about what others see
Not about intimacy
You want only yourself
I was passing by and saw him. He was sitting where he had sat all day, doing his thing. He was too drunk to recognize me again. The last time he was like this, his heart was twisting again because of her – she was always a complication. I asked him how he was doing.
“She broke her back.” He said with despairing eyes.
“What? How?” I wasn’t expecting that.
“She fell 15 feet. Broke her back! She’s in the hospital now. I have to go to Austin and take care of her.” He started weeping. “Fuck! I was headed north! I was on my my way. Now I’ll have to push her around in a wheel chair. Probably for two months, or longer? While she’s screaming at me! Fuck! I was about leave! Going north, man!”
He was crying and cursing. I saw love in his eyes, and pain. He apologized for being a crying drunk and I told him to not be ridiculous.
“She took a knife for me.” He said.
“She what?” I didn’t think I heard him correctly.
“She took a knife for me. You don’t forget that. I took one for her too.” He lifted up his shirt and showed me a big, gnarled scar on his abdomen – where
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