a day in the life

i was sitting impatient at the busstop curled up on the bench biting my lip when you pulled over and offered me a ride; i hopped into yr cream-colored volkswagen and petted yr dog and we smoked and you took me to the house offering from the curb a goodbye and a place to stay so i turned back halfway up the stairs to accept; we filled the backseat with my bags, later after burritos we drove for hours around portland glowing orange and foggy in the night, watched planes taking off miraculously lifting their heavy bodies from the pavement and others slowly appearing mystical from the clouds, talked about cities and friends and yr almost-ex-wife and drugs and the past and then nothing, just sat in soft silence with the lights rushing by and the night rushing by till upstairs in yr room where you were flipping coins.