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Food for Thought

pancakes started my rugged day, I quit hittin' the hay, roughly around 10am. I refused High Focus, and wondered why the medication the prescribed was so blah. I know why, but we keep these things to ourselves. Once I took my headphones out, I began to hear the blasphemy around me. The man at the library, talking business, taking business. Telecon, christmas shopping, Mr. Walker dead too young. And as I sit in these seats once again, the same I sat in when the SAT's were the only importance to me, I wonder where I was. So I took off on Mama's crossroads road bicycle. It felt good, gosh it felt great. One stop on the narrow's at a waterfall to fly back to a blackout and memory lane. Over the Delaware, away from NJ, take me to PA. One stop at the homestead for a buck-fifty coffee fix and a few chapters from On the Road. Thanks, Jack. I needed those laughs. So I carry on, on the toe-path along the canal. Some circles and squares to remind me of hopscotch, or maybe a sign. A light up of an American Spirit, and I can never seem to escape everyone when I'm on the run. Passer-by's, a woman and her Labradors, a handsome man with shades, a blonde, gelled, comb-over, and a cell phone to the ear in one hand. oh, and ME, the smoker on the cycle. I know I said those packs were my last, but really, I've hit rock bottom, a broke rock bottom, and this pack is surely my last. So I made it over the Delaware, searching for a treasure hunt. The Frenchtown Market, was beat, so I peddled on Rt.12 and made it to Chris's Citgo- if you care to know. Made it to the center of great-gasoline smells, and found my treasure hunt. In fact, the generous man gave me two. Pedal to the metal, click-clack the sound of metal banging from something, hitting something, on a bike I can't call my own. I continue on Rt.12 and pass by the dead deer, a water break, here and there. Hot sweat, cold sweat, de-layer, zipper up. The fake flowers, a compliment, a pretty hint, that some one maybe loves me. And I keep my eyes fixated on what is in front of me- a car passes, I LOVE YOU writes the handwriting on a white vehicle. So, pedal to the metal, I carry on towards the library, to a place I feel safest. No intentions of even renting a thing- except maybe Lolita. However, finish what I start, can't seem to do that so easily these days. Ohh, but I'd like to. That's a start. A quick stop, for a quick slice, and the time to skim the Treasure Hunt. Oh a beautiful day, I made it from start to finish. I'm sorry I can't seem to do as you say, and the options, and choices, they really do slay.
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Written by
petuniawhiskey
For You?
Written by
petuniawhiskey
Published
Dec 3, 2013
Lines·Words
154·498
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