yeah they went wild

i can bare my soul on any given night to a girl i trust. it's just the way i am. and watching vince vaughn make jennifer aniston cry all is proven illusionary when someone i really care about is really hurting. and sitting in a quiet but rain pattered room trying to find something right to say proves that words are nothing more than an illusion themselves. it hurts to find there is honestly nothing i can say to make her feel any better. then what are words good for anyway?

driving home after midnight. sunday night, no cars on the road. i always love a good parkway, where the lights line the street as far as you can see. but the lights burn orange and the hot pavement breathes steam and the rain never gets worse or better. just so that every other light my windshield is caught before the wiper blade and glows back in my face instead of allowing a look at the road ahead. once, at the climax of poison oak, a dark streetlight came on ahead of me. used to be, especially with my mother, streetlights would burn out just ahead of us. used to be.

the road winds on. the car behind me never gets any closer. the steam is more a hologram than anything else. life in three dimensions. something solid to crash into over and over again. just to reappear behind me and wait for someone else. once, out in the country, i grazed a puddle and the nose of the car was tugged to the right but released just as quickly. i keep both eyes open for eyes in the night.

a quarter mile from my street, just in time to brake and slow, i unbuckle my seatbelt. just in case any cops drove past to see it. just in case anything happened and they could finish perusing the crime scene and deduct that i hadn't been wearing it. halfway down the lane i cut the radio and coasted. i reached down and cut the driving lights, the interior lights. just so i could see the orange lightpost at the end of the road. the car kept going, no road underneath, reminded me more than anything of a dying fighter plane gliding home to the dark sea. in the dark, the sides of the road are closer. everything jumps out at you. but as long as you glide toward the light, it's ok. i brought back the lights to find my driveway and coast home. i think, gliding into my parking spot i ran over a frog on the rocks. i shifted back in reverse and let the idle pull me back a couple feet. the frogs love it when it's raining out. although i couldn't see any evidence of murder, there was one sitting off to the side on the rocks that looked exactly like my grandmother's pug.

you know i would die for you but you won't let me help