I once ended up in the middle of Arizona with nothing but a single cigarette and a couple mints. No phone, no money, not even any shoes. This one guy on a motorcycle pulled over to the side of the road where I stood, lost, gave me a funny look and then took off again. I don't remember how I got there, but the next morning I woke up in Phoenix outside a gas station with 50 dollars in my pocket and a slip of paper that read: "keep it up, honey" on one side, and a phone number on the other. I never called. I never even wondered who had written it.
this was an old poem that i posted before but i deleted it but i just found it and i like it so yeah hey!