Take a wrong turn ...
Getting lost in Detroit is never a bad idea. The wrong turn will lead you down a street that feels like an alley and an alley that feels like someone's back yard.
There is always someone alone walking. You wonder where they're walking off to. Sometimes you want to stop and ask them. Alot of times they don't have anything with them. They are not in a rush.
I wonder about people's stories. I tend to think I might be disappointed if I asked. That it they tell me they are headed off to their girl's house after I've concocted a sweet little tale about them getting off the Greyhound in the wrong city cause they overslept through Cleveland and figured since they were here they'd go to the Casino, that somehow that speaks poorly of their character. I know that's fucked up.
... and for the record: yes, in case you're wondering, if I imagined he was headed off to his girlfriend's house after a long day at work, and didn't have a car, so walked all the way from downtown, I'd be intensely disappointed if he told me he just off a Greyhound in the wrong town.
I took the wrong train to Bloomington a few months ago. I thought I could visit Indiana University in Bloomington, IL apparently. Fortunately, the cute redhead sitting next to me let me know I on the wrong train before it took off. Unfortunately, he did not invite me to stay on the train and keep going wherever he was going, since I suppose he thought that would have been in bad form, even though we were having great chemistry.
I have wound up staying in the wrong train stop, or the last bus stop, or the only stop at that time of night outta' somewhere else. That's how I moved to Chicago. It was a bad layover that lasted. and lasted.
Anyway, got lost in Detroit tonight, looking for my boss' house. Turned around in bank parking lots, and empty storefront byways. Watched the snow swirl and pile up like little white blowflies. Made it home just in time to catch the rain on my tongue.
There is always someone alone walking. You wonder where they're walking off to. Sometimes you want to stop and ask them. Alot of times they don't have anything with them. They are not in a rush.
I wonder about people's stories. I tend to think I might be disappointed if I asked. That it they tell me they are headed off to their girl's house after I've concocted a sweet little tale about them getting off the Greyhound in the wrong city cause they overslept through Cleveland and figured since they were here they'd go to the Casino, that somehow that speaks poorly of their character. I know that's fucked up.
... and for the record: yes, in case you're wondering, if I imagined he was headed off to his girlfriend's house after a long day at work, and didn't have a car, so walked all the way from downtown, I'd be intensely disappointed if he told me he just off a Greyhound in the wrong town.
I took the wrong train to Bloomington a few months ago. I thought I could visit Indiana University in Bloomington, IL apparently. Fortunately, the cute redhead sitting next to me let me know I on the wrong train before it took off. Unfortunately, he did not invite me to stay on the train and keep going wherever he was going, since I suppose he thought that would have been in bad form, even though we were having great chemistry.
I have wound up staying in the wrong train stop, or the last bus stop, or the only stop at that time of night outta' somewhere else. That's how I moved to Chicago. It was a bad layover that lasted. and lasted.
Anyway, got lost in Detroit tonight, looking for my boss' house. Turned around in bank parking lots, and empty storefront byways. Watched the snow swirl and pile up like little white blowflies. Made it home just in time to catch the rain on my tongue.
Here's a mildly, remotely related interview my friend did. Notice the awe over the patch of black in the middle of the street, like it really looks like anything:
Comments