tabi

ran away from home
the day after thanksgiving
fuck all this week early holiday bullshit
he said
i'd much rather be dead than end
up in some fucking jersey mall
fighting with a pilled mom
who had one too many shots in her skinny latte.

stripped from my goose down blanket
5 to 7
i plunked on my jacket (the wool kind)
and a grey porkpie hat and waited 1/2 an hour
to a car with a broken heater

where to captain? with just one reply
disguised as an inside joke and a wink

whoa, oh, new england.

sitting in a car with only parliaments, costello and no heat
freezes your throughts literally
just imagine
135
60
20
10
1
1/2
welcome to boston

tick tick 10 minutes

welcome to allston
full of broken dreams of bohemia
only second to brooklyn-town

brooklyn? says our guide with the ice blue eyes and the stain
not only on his shirt but on his heart
fack that plahce
i traad it for a yeer
ahll i gaht whin i came home wahs
bedbugs
and powdah in my nose

i can tell you stowries about blow

silence

let's get a drink says the companion
2
3
floor

it's 5 pm and i'm riding the t
drunk
i think
no
it's toooooootalllly same shit
different city
FACT

i came across a mime in hahvahd squah
he said i've nevah seen a lady in such a wicked fine powkpie hat such as yaself.

i say

mime sir you have lowst your dowlla
cause mr mime
mimes don't tawlk

left that porkie hat on the t
along with some lunch
or was that breakfast

there goes 50 bucks
oops
skint

whoa, oh, new england.

is it weird to think that maybe, certain people are just too predictable? i'm sitting here with a band, two people i haven't seen in two years, and some things don't change. james, whose name i'm changing because in case this ever gets published, i know he'll spit in my face for even asking to sign a release, is still cheating on his girl. he claims he's so in love with this girl, yet once again he's cheating on his barely legal girlfriend with a tattooed barslut whose stds i can name just by looking at her caked on face. the same barslut who probably has a boyfriend waiting for her at the bar but i see her outside the greenroom door pulling on james' belt loops and thrusting her hips out closer. living out her rock and roll fantasy.

but who am i to judge? i'm sitting next to my ex who has two kids with another woman. i am that "other woman". i'm no more or no less than that barslut, i just had an in before tonight.

i wonder sometimes how people judge me. and sometimes, i don't want to know. i'm sure i'm the "homewrecker". i'm sure i'm the "new york girl". i'm sure the guys in the other band are saying "he can do better"; "he could do worse", or worse "he did better"; "he did worse".

i left that life behind two years ago, but the minute my hand is held as i'm lead behind the barricade to that guarded door, i'm that girl all over again. two years doesn't change anything. it's the same thing over and over again, that touring lifestyle.

now i know why guys in bands think every city melds into the other. it's the same scene from the play of "tour" every night, under a different title. "st. louis" "denver" "los angeles" "new york" "baltimore". the scenery changes, but the plot is the same. never thickens, never changes.

fuck the rock and roll lifestyle.

at least i know i'm not a barslut.