Tapping the Dream Tree
“If it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t be hiding behind this Dumpster in back of the Harbor Ritz, trying not to breathe while these freaks keep getting closer and closer to where we’re pressed up against the wall, pressed up so tight the bricks are leaving imprints on our skin. The sound of approaching footsteps is faint but distinct, hard leather brushing the concrete. I thought everybody did rubber-soled shoes these days, but what do I know?
Of course Christina’s got to take some of the heat for this—if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have been out on the streets tonight, sticking our noses in where they don’t belong. But I’m the one who didn’t take any of this seriously. Turns out my idea of how the world works is so off-base I’ve put a serious crimp into the question of our continued well-being. But, really. Life’s complicated enough without adding monsters to the equation. Or whatever these things are.
One thing I know, they’re ugly as sin. I pulled a couple of stretches in county, back... in my impressionable youth, and, trust me, I know ugly, but correctional services never locked up anything like this.MoreLess
Of course Christina’s got to take some of the heat for this—if it wasn’t for her, we wouldn’t have been out on the streets tonight, sticking our noses in where they don’t belong. But I’m the one who didn’t take any of this seriously. Turns out my idea of how the world works is so off-base I’ve put a serious crimp into the question of our continued well-being. But, really. Life’s complicated enough without adding monsters to the equation. Or whatever these things are.
One thing I know, they’re ugly as sin. I pulled a couple of stretches in county, back... in my impressionable youth, and, trust me, I know ugly, but correctional services never locked up anything like this.MoreLess
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