Chi

We saw Chi' through one of the many bullet holes in the truck. We didn't make a deal out of it. it was 12 in the night and the stars were hitting the floor with all the drunk arguments going on about around us.

We jumped off in the outskirts, the truck was going in, but we jumped, guitar on hand and no real reason, or direction.

It was albion yes, but what do with albion when it turns into arcadia? If it was nor the path or the mean. We walked for hours, and didn't regret the road one bit. She sang alot and I listened eagerly. I listened and listened hungry for her tunes, she was my heroe, and I was her villian, and we were both. My throat was sore with all the smokes passed through it, and I could barely speak but shout.

We followed the river, and I say we, cos it was us.

I never stopped drinking and she never stopped singing, it was mad. It was mad cos we hadn't been robbed yet, and we walked fearless through those barrios of ruffians and bandits. Like we were tough men, with their european guns, and fags that would kill any white kid.

Then I curled down and held my stomach screaming.

"They got me, they got me." Like a mad man would.

I was mad, and I kept twisting, and curling down in a pool of my own sweat, and my sweat was blood, and they had got me, they had got me years ago, but just now I was shouting like the madman I was.

She sat in front of me, and did not laugh. I swore she would, but she didn't. God I was bleeding! But she didn't laugh. She tuned her guitar and started playing, and then it wasn't blood or sweat. It was tears. Thats the thing with her, she just doesn't plays you a song out of the mood.

I wept all the way through the one minute forty six song. Then I sat up. She didn't laugh. I swore she would. I tell you, maybe I would have, but she didn't. She didn't hold me either if you need to know.

She called me Holden, but I didn't know how to call her. She was she, she is she. So I grabbed her hand and ran into the city. I wanted to get lost in the city, and all the streets, and junkie corners and all the poets with no hope, and the revolutionaries that no longer believe in liberty. I wanted to get so lost in the alleys of the bummers that know everything and the writers that battle for their so called truth, and I knew we had no reason, we have no reason. We got lost in the city.

So, so lost. She asked me what I was gonna do with my life. I told her there was no reason. She agreed with me, but asked me again. I told her to play the tune again, so that I could weep, and see thing the way they were, or the way we thought they were.

She played it thirty first times, and it wasn't enough.