roamin'i named him charlie.roamin'5 years ago in Scraps
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charlie was the sort to sit on the concrete rather than the bench three feet away because it was ironic, his guitar case under his shoes and a cardboard sign on his lap that read, "roamin'." charlie was maybe twenty, with too many deceased train tickets and copper-plated coins turning in his jeans. i would bet the contents of his pockets that he couldn't remember where his hometown was anymore, what his mother's face looked like, or why he left.
i wanted him to hold his sign the other way, i wanted to see if there were more permanent-marker words scrawled on the back. i wanted it to say, 'drive me somewhere,' or 'take me to the west coast, take me back east.'
i wanted to drop my shopping bags and throw open my passenger door and tell him to jump in. his guitar case would go in the backseats and he'd kick his feet up on the dashboard and leave muddy traction prints along it.
i'd tell him to empty his pockets, see what he's got, make him chip in for gas money. i'd dr
sewer ratson mondays, we wake up on fire at midnight. you grunt, i sigh. i shrug, you smirk. i blush, i hit my head on a rock. i notice that i fell asleep on the grass.sewer rats5 years ago in Scraps
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tuesdays, our toothbrushes are set with stars. staples linger in my fingers, and your shoes are too large. you talk about the planets too much. sometimes i think you're an alien.
on wednesdays, every deathwish scribbled into our minds or notepads falls from between our teeth, and we stop lying for just long enough to be embarrassed. wednesday is a day we reserve for remembering that skydiving is like suicide, only it is less like death and more like flying.
thursdays, we hold funerals for our old selves, the ones that splat on the ground when our parachutes deployed. you would write the eulogies, and i would lean over your shoulder to read them. you burnt them on the spot.
fridays, we skip class and sleep in until the sun is so insistent, we finally get out of bed. you tell me about your falling dream and i tell you about the sna