cel's, pt. 3

Submitted by celebratedrecluse in Trans

The smell of gas from the station's leaky hose reminds me of turpentine, of a world away-- the valleys of Arizona, warm asphalt, sunburnt shoulders, water droplets viscerally adhered to astroturf, pink-orange sunsets, the blue of city street lights, late night murals in unwatched alleyways, the smell of spray paint, sirens from faraway, cardiac or political arrest, I remembered nothing, held sacred nothing, I escaped through petty crime and the extranet, I snuck onto the roofs of bars to listen to the music underage, I wore black hoodies and bandannas to protests in case my parents saw the pictures in the newspaper, I disappeared for weekends to wear dumpstered dresses and ride the boxcars like muckraker kids, the weekends turned to weeks, state lines were crossed, and before you knew it I was in a Baaken apartment with no heat in the dead of winter, our skin arcing electricity for warmth



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