A handful of God
I had to settle down for a while, I felt separated from God…
“It’s only rain Angela”, she squeezed my leg as the windshield wipers tore open a line of sight, “It will be alright”. I lied.
I had found her sitting outside my apartment crying, there’s something about teared makeup running down a pretty face that can’t keep me away. She was in that little skirt she wore when we played ‘Rollercoaster’, only I could tell there was going to be no amusement to the ride tonight.
I wanted to light a cigarette, she’d chastise me for smoking. I’d laugh, and she’d take one out my pack and light it, just to let it sit between her fingers and burn.
The emotional girls are a much better ride, they need the escape, they want to scream and let all their pains out. I will never get involved with another vegetarian, it has everything to do with their reservations for meat.
There’s sex, just to get a quick one off. Then there’s love. That damn word pulls more fools into trouble than drugs and guns combined. Angela could make love. Anyone with that much built-up emotion had to be hiding something, I was convinced she was hiding teeth somewhere down there.
Bayes County was another 3 hours from the border, I hate this goddamn state. I had to stop for coffee, sugar, something to keep me awake. Walking back to the car, she was gone.
The drive home was masked behind the breath of Schnapps and painkillers, cool musings from the stereo and tears on the road.
I sat on my porch drinking beers and playing the 12-string. Idle hands are the curse of God. I’ve this terrible habit of raising the bird to the sky and cursing our creator, the neighbors look at me through their windows, and turn away when I grin at them. I’m drunk, what do you want from me?
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