Soon enough, or not at all


I need a drink. My hands are starting to tremble.

One noun, one verb and you have a sentence. Can a story be that easy? Can “She died.” Be counted as a story? I mean, does it imply something larger? Who the fuck knows.

Extra spaces mean extra intent.

I am not embarrassed by the scars that line my face like a badly folded map that has been tossed, ignored on the floorboard, forgotten in the heaps of cigarette ash and crumpled foil strewn over dead hours as the truck traces its way past boarded shops and burned out houses

Her memory, my pain and the white line form an ancient triptych of need hot desire pulled like sweet agony and sweat from the taut flesh of the quivering hi-way at dusk their broken blades laid out like shards of bone thrown on the red earth as dark spreads over the horizon

The passenger seat carries a bottle, which needs no protection from the belt or air-bag and never fucks with the radio or complains about the air conditioning or asks the difficult question about our destination. We’ll get there soon enough

something shiny


1 Comment

  1. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Valerie , nate Innomi. nate Innomi said: RT @thavdizzle: Soon enough, or not at all « Nathan Tyree’s Weblog: via @addthis […]


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