Originally Posted on 02 June, 2008 On Facebook Notes
Somewhere in the middle of america there is a girl surrounded by smoke, the smell of whiskey and sweat. Dirty blues seeps through every crack and crevice of the old two story building and into her ears. As each one of her muscles relax and tense to move fluidly across the dance floor the passion in her ignites like a string of fireworks. Her passion and wants are raw and as she sways her hips with each beat and twists her body to a spin she realizes she doesn't remember how to process her unrefined passion. She wonders if she'll ever remember how as her heartbeat syncs with the drums, her body being carried away by the music, completely unable to control the impulses and her mind begins to run away with her... He is already gone and she grabs her things and heads for home.
On a highway somewhere in the middle of america she glances into her rearview mirror and remembers what absolute comfort with another person is. She knows what that electric initial spark is, but cannot for the life of her remember the inbetween. For almost three long years she's been the driver of her own car and always had some place to be. Every now and again she had a very familiar face hop into her passenger seat as though he'd never left from their trip many years ago, but he was no longer an assisting voice or member of the journey, just a loved and comfortable passenger who would be on his way almost as quickly as he entered the car. With him there was no need for that inbetween, for that inbetween happened almost seven years ago, there was only the comfort and excitement left.
Now, there might be someone waiting for her at the stop, someone who may want to get to that place but it has been too long since she's been down that road and she's feeling a bit lost. She remembers the twists and turns it takes, how easy it is to speed down that road and how if you're not paying close enough attention you can take a wrong turn and wind up in a place where no one ever wants to be. She wants to take that journey so badly, she wants that comfort again but she can't seem to find her way and she certainly doesn't want to stop and ask for directions.
Somewhere in the middle of america she sits in a dark living room, slowly draws on her cigarette as the passion in her is overflowing; she tries so hard to remember what it is to let someone new get close enough for their chemistry to fuse from the sparks and how to get the fusion without disaster.