godknowswhere

cornfields at night.
We had driven past them that morning in a stupor of nerves as I clutched my black audition notebook while in my black audition dress dreaming black thoughts.
The fields lay fallow beside the football field of Central High School in godknowswhere.
In the evening we could have been diving into unknown waters without any sort of guide–
the flat midwest doesn’t hold you until dawn.

Entr’acte

Late nights at the arts center, hugging the geometric curves of sleek cinder block corridors of its bowels, have kept me from prowling the streets and my memories in search of the next rocks pour. So I carry the next shot in my purse, a leather flask tippled in parking garages. Soon, I will slouch back to Merry Ann’s or go visit my old friend the Pittsfield, perhaps?