nobody would be home
she sure was crying now.
we used to sit in my car
parked in some store
always at night
and listen to the sounds of
pink floyd pour sweetly through
my old car's stereo.
she'd cry then just as
she's crying now
but tonight there isn't a sound
of pink floyd to be
found.
no, tonight she's crying because of
me.
I'm packing socks and pants and
some shirts into my suitcase
as she paces her bedroom floor,
saying,
"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!"
she walked into the kitchen and
popped a can of beer.
"YOU SURE TALKED A LOT LAST NIGHT WITH ALL
THOSE PEOPLE AROUND. WHY DON'T YOU SAY
A FUCKING THING NOW? WHERE'RE THOSE GUTS NOW?"
in my hurry, I packed mismatching socks and old under-
wear.
"what are you doing?"
she said.
"doing what would make you happy," I
responded.
those tears came now,
and thus came a beer bottle
toward my head,
missing and scaring her
cat.
"YOU-SUN-OVA-BITCH!" she
said and
went to the restroom and
locked herself in.
shortly afterwards,
the doorbell rang. I opened the
door and saw the law standing
in all his 5'7 glory,
fake eyes, tired
frown.
"what seems to be the problem here?"
he said, looking into her apartment.
"nothing. I upset my girlfriend," I
said.
I asked him to help me with my bags
and then he asked me
if I was stealing any of
the stuff.
"no one would steal this stuff," I
told him and I walked to my car
and packed the backseat.
I drove out of
the packed parking lot
and the law did not follow.
it's been 4 days and
almost 4 nights
and I have yet to hear from my dear, dear
love.
I turn up the stereo in my motel radio
and listen to what's left of Pink Floyd's
The Wall
and drink the last of
two six-packs.
I'd call her home
but
nobody would be home.
we used to sit in my car
parked in some store
always at night
and listen to the sounds of
pink floyd pour sweetly through
my old car's stereo.
she'd cry then just as
she's crying now
but tonight there isn't a sound
of pink floyd to be
found.
no, tonight she's crying because of
me.
I'm packing socks and pants and
some shirts into my suitcase
as she paces her bedroom floor,
saying,
"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!"
she walked into the kitchen and
popped a can of beer.
"YOU SURE TALKED A LOT LAST NIGHT WITH ALL
THOSE PEOPLE AROUND. WHY DON'T YOU SAY
A FUCKING THING NOW? WHERE'RE THOSE GUTS NOW?"
in my hurry, I packed mismatching socks and old under-
wear.
"what are you doing?"
she said.
"doing what would make you happy," I
responded.
those tears came now,
and thus came a beer bottle
toward my head,
missing and scaring her
cat.
"YOU-SUN-OVA-BITCH!" she
said and
went to the restroom and
locked herself in.
shortly afterwards,
the doorbell rang. I opened the
door and saw the law standing
in all his 5'7 glory,
fake eyes, tired
frown.
"what seems to be the problem here?"
he said, looking into her apartment.
"nothing. I upset my girlfriend," I
said.
I asked him to help me with my bags
and then he asked me
if I was stealing any of
the stuff.
"no one would steal this stuff," I
told him and I walked to my car
and packed the backseat.
I drove out of
the packed parking lot
and the law did not follow.
it's been 4 days and
almost 4 nights
and I have yet to hear from my dear, dear
love.
I turn up the stereo in my motel radio
and listen to what's left of Pink Floyd's
The Wall
and drink the last of
two six-packs.
I'd call her home
but
nobody would be home.