And if this is silently the best time of my life…sweet. It’s a beautiful thing, not having the capability to refrain from Tommy Topping this ride from one stretch of years to the next. It means that when this kid hits 94, I will be the most accomplished being on the face of this planet…a galaxical ambassador to systems of worlds we have yet to discover. Yes, it’s a good thing we’re tight now. I’ll come in handy down the road.
Too filled with internal banter…waiting to be. I would have dropped quotes if it didn’t make my sentences look sloppy and ill. The point from which I lay sarcasm should be obvious. Should. Be. Obvious. Then again…what a waste of time, the circles I spin you. No, you love it.
I’m leaving to find a bar…sometime in the relatively near future. Though, my specifics lend difficulty to what would otherwise be a simple journey. A small town where bottled Budweiser is all that’s served and the boys fight nightly, hourly, quarter hourly…
My ladies would be lined up at the bar…
A place where painted jeans opt for deferral to cowboy boots below the knee.
Where flannel shirts tie into little knots below the bottom rib.
Where hair pulls up, nothing short of disaster.
Their home lives would be sheltered, their freedom stunted, their raging souls imprisoned. Their thirst could only be quenched by pulling me out onto that floor. To tame, breath by breath, their unbridled need to fly feet...to dance.
The town would be ruled by an iron fist Reverend with a misplaced heart. I’d fall for a girl named Rusty and never need to ask for her name a second time. Ever.
I’m leaving tonight. Starting in New Mexico and working my way to Tennessee.
...
So irrelevant that my spin teach practically rolled the ENTIRE Footloose soundtrack in class tonight. So irrelevant.
Smith out.
