Late Night Drive

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


About a guy that can't sleep and decides to drive to Las Vegas...

Submitted: January 23, 2018

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Submitted: January 23, 2018

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“Late Night Drive”

 

It was 2:03am

he still had

over 200-miles

till he hit Vegas

the road was

empty

and all his

windows

were down

his car

stereo

was as loud

as it could

possibly go,

even at this

late hour

the outside

air

was in the

90’s

his mind felt

wide open

driving alone

out here

through the

night time

desert plains

finally free

from all that

San Fernando

smog

that gets

bottled up

in the valley

when the temp

hits triple digits

able to think

now

with a clear

head

so many new

ideas

flowing through

his mind

the seeds of

which are

coming in with

the hot night

air

then getting

bounced

around

with his music

till they form,

that stagnant

valley heat

was really

getting to him

like someone

had

put a plastic

bag

over his head

leaving him to

breath

the same

dirty

sticky air

over and over

in till all

it’s life giving

oxygen

was exhausted

and the last

thing

his eyes see

before he

releases his

grip

on this world’s

reality

is

“Thanks for

Shopping,

Come again”

printed upside

down

on the outside

of the bag,

he jerks the

car

to the right

almost going

off the

road

when a piece

of trash,

a plastic bag

comes out of

the dark

caught in a

desert updraft

and had floated

into his lane

of traffic,

he’s struck with

something

between

déjà vu

and stupid

irony

he vows

right then

and there

to switch from

plastic

back

to paper

when ever given

the chance,

he had rolled

around

in his sweat

stained sheets

for hours

unable to sleep

a certain girl

on his mind

who kept

dragging herself

through his

restless state

which just

compounded

his situation

he finally just

said “Fuck it”

if I can’t sleep

I might as well

head to Vegas

where everything

is air conditioned

and there are

plenty of distractions

and when he

ever does

get to sleep

she won’t be

around to

blow holes

in all of his

dreams,

his heart was

beating very fast

well before the

rouge plastic bag

encounter

due more to

his choice

of music

it was hard

and fast

from the

70’s & 80’s

at twenty five

most everything

he listened to

was well before

he was ever

born

he refuses to

play

mixed C/D’s

too many great

songs

get lost to

the annals of

time

that way

forgotten B-tracks

skipped over

due to the

sheer laziness

of the listener

he transfers

the whole record

to C/D

and always listens

to both sides,

the records of

that period

had power and

force

pressed into

their vinyl

every cut

laid down

was meant to be

listened too

not like

all that crap

today

that gets pressed

between the only

two songs

that the artist

ever really planned

on you hearing,

if the world

would have just

stuck with

records

music would have

been

much better off,

he sees a

billboard for

the MGM Grand

he had once

spent five days

at the MGM

and never once

did he step

a foot outside

though it wasn’t

till his drive

back to the

valley

that he came

to realize it,

no clocks

windows

or any kind of

noticeable change

with the indoor

lighting

you start to

forget

the sun

and the sky

even exist

rotating

mealtimes

disappear

you just eat

when you’re hungry

never checking

the time

meals become

more of an

annoyance

hunger

gets use to

being suppressed

and only pokes

it’s head out

once

everyday or so,

he picks up on

the dead silence

as his stereo

switches C/D’s

giving the openness

of the desert

an eerie feeling

the moon and

the stars

seem brighter

and more defined

in that lapse

of sound

as the next

C/D

is shuffled up

front

from its place

in line

and the night

air

is once again

charged with

life

from his music

this time a

early 80’s

So Cal Venice

punk band

“Suicidal Tendencies”

takes the top

slot

what a cool name

for a band

he always thought

he had once

made a list

of bands

he wished

he would have

been able to

go see

before they were

known

got made into

a national name

back when they

were still doing

keg parties

and practicing in

some guy’s

garage

fans wearing

home-made

tee-shirts

to show their

loyalty,

that’s the cool

thing

about Punk

and thrash metal

it’s such a

small circle

even when the

bands

make it big

even then

most people

couldn’t name

their songs

yea

“Suicidal Tendencies”

was on that

list,

he rubs his

eyes

their dry from

the heat

and lack of

sleep

and she’s still

hanging around

in his thoughts

he was sure

he had left

her far behind

back in the

valley

with it’s

boxed up

heat

and airborne

dirt

but he was

wrong again,

he looked at

the road

and then

the passenger

seat

he can’t stop

himself

from picturing

her

sitting there

looking back

at him

shaking her

head

asking why

he’s got that

deep look

on his face

as he stares

at her

she pulls her

knees

up to her

chest

and hides

behind them

like a little

girl

as she scrolls

through

her phone

safe from his

stare

which makes him

laugh out loud

as if she was

really there

besides him,

he double checks

the volume

to make sure

it is set at

maximum

he still has

a couple of

hours

left to drive

before the sun

takes over the

sky

and the thought

of all that

light

scares him

he punches

the gas

and without thinking

takes his hand

and touches his

sunglasses

which he always

has hanging

around his neck

his one line of

defense

against the sun

and the world

that it illuminates

he settles back

into his seat

looking at that

point

on the horizon

where the road

meets the sky

“maybe I should

call her”

he says

as he turns

towards the

empty seat

besides him

and sees her

with her back

against her door

legs pulled up

still hiding

behind her knees

only the top

of her

pixie cut hair

showing

“yea,

I think I am

going to

call her”…

 

Tom Allen…01-12-2018…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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