when you see a fine booty
but you get caught starin
"You stop and get gas again outside Baton Rouge. Alligator swamps out behind the station, you imagine rotting faces, murdered lovers of Southern lost teenagers, gray and belly down in the swamp, leeches on swollen death-fattened thigh, eyes gone dull and white like catfish.
In the car you blast by green tree line while Rob drives and smokes, ashing into a Pepsi can, and you looking out the window while your favorite tapes play—loud music that makes sense when your country is run by a terrorist, when your world is ripped by madness, when you feel crazy every day, and you don’t know where you’re headed."
adam gnade - the old lover
"Get drunk and fall asleep in motel bathtubs. Get drunk and forget about your home in San Diego, your lost job, your old apartment, your publisher gone mad, from what? Get drunk and fall down on Canal Street, French Quarter, singing blues, sailor songs, sea chanteys, sloppy to kill memories … run, hide, retreat, surrender … it’s okay, it’s okay, and you’ll save yourself from yourself and write a book and a record about it too, and Dan will play guitar and hand you a mic and plug you in and you’ll drink together and he’ll run the tape all night and all will be alright because “we will fix ourselves” you think and we will. We will? We will."
Adam gnade - The old lover