We were singing “Cowboy Song” past midnight, tinking* at Chill Dog Cove, and in a fever dream of classic LPs and punk rock 45s I could hear the screen door slam along American interstates; funny how the floor I sleep seems colder the further South we go.
Some of my friends quit drinking. Most of my friends quit drugs, but I’m just a baby. Baby, we’re punk and in love. On LSD, I saw my speed: a broken body by 23. I felt my features fading and I fixed a Bloody Mary.
Young soul, young soul, with your head out the window - see how fast that thing can go.