Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Dusted

Out on that dirt road, I thought what am I gonna do now? I felt like Cary Grant waiting for my connection in North by Northwest -- was that plane gonna come and cut me down?

Bastard, chicken bastard -- I thought he had more courage than that, but I was wrong.

He pushed me oughtta the car and sped off, then the brake lights lit up, and the dust rose, and I saw him get out, go to the trunk, open it, and toss my suitcase in the road. I just laid there, biting my lip, tasting blood, and thinking I wanted to yell something but the yelling was done.

I watched my red suitcase bounce down the road toward me and then it split wide open and my clothes came flying out like confetti. I watched a black bra take flight in the prairie wind and it caught on a corn stalk and hung there like a flag as the bastard drove off and left me dusted.

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