dear curbside service diary,
i despise waiting alongside the road. something else i hate- the sound of an abandoned radio playing. if you ain't gunna listen to it- turn the bitch off. same goes with the tv. turn the bitch off. honestly. the apparitions in this house where we live today prefer the quiet- as opposed to when we lived at the farm, they liked the noise- but the house was much bigger- having six bedrooms- it was quiet when it had noise. you couldn't fill that house with sound- no matter how hard you tried. i liked the staircase the most at the farm- it curved going up. the banister was awesome. it led down to the huge front door that was such a grand entrance to a beautiful house. i could have lived there forever- but i'd be penniless. i don't see how people survive with the propane bills and gas at four bucks a gallon- two teenage boys- it would have killed me now- but when the boys were small- and times were different- it was a memory i wouldn't want to trade for anything. it's all over now. to there i wouldn't go back- but further i might. i might go back to a night alongside the road- when i waited and it was cold. when that man stopped and gave me a ride- and he asked my name- only this time- i wouldn't lie.
i despise waiting alongside the road. something else i hate- the sound of an abandoned radio playing. if you ain't gunna listen to it- turn the bitch off. same goes with the tv. turn the bitch off. honestly. the apparitions in this house where we live today prefer the quiet- as opposed to when we lived at the farm, they liked the noise- but the house was much bigger- having six bedrooms- it was quiet when it had noise. you couldn't fill that house with sound- no matter how hard you tried. i liked the staircase the most at the farm- it curved going up. the banister was awesome. it led down to the huge front door that was such a grand entrance to a beautiful house. i could have lived there forever- but i'd be penniless. i don't see how people survive with the propane bills and gas at four bucks a gallon- two teenage boys- it would have killed me now- but when the boys were small- and times were different- it was a memory i wouldn't want to trade for anything. it's all over now. to there i wouldn't go back- but further i might. i might go back to a night alongside the road- when i waited and it was cold. when that man stopped and gave me a ride- and he asked my name- only this time- i wouldn't lie.