this son…

kept goin’…walked away from one kinda’ fear into another…always has…least since I can remember…

this constant need to travel…go somewhere…in-search of what…somethin’ better…maybe a second chance…

never the type to stay in one-place… always these calls we’d get from all-over…bizzare places…like Moscow, Texas…Paris, Tennessee…Kukamonga…

they’d talk for an hour or so…an’ when she got off that phone she’d shake her head a few times, What a strange boy, she’d say, A strange boy…,just nod my head..

don’t think he ever knew what he was doin’…completely unaware of any kinda’ repercussions…there’s always repercussions…oh well…
he’ll be back…you’ll see…maybe ‘fore fall…winter…liked ta’ see the leaves change…said it was God’s paint-brush…

used ta’ take me on these long afternoon drives…interstate…backroads…up in Michigan…over in Ohio…we’d just sit there…drivin’…not a word…maybe he was waitin’ on me ta’ say somethin’…I was waitin’ on him…

that’s that..

he’ll be back…tellin’ ya’…might be a year…maybe ten…who knows…but he’ll come through town again…broke as always…

you’ll see…

know one thing…

I’ll be gone…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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