rodeokitchen

04.19.2017 I found myself awake at 2am, on a nest of some eight pillows. I was not all together sure of where, yet still disappointingly aware I was not inside of you. Complete darkness is a rarity in hotel rooms these days, even harder to find whilst taking a nap on the road. I sprang from the bed thinking Orlando, landing near the window somewhere between Bar Harbor and reality. Before I could feel my feet, I was throwing the heavy curtain open to peer out into the snow.

I checked on you more than twice. There you were, safe under the floodlights, in your understated New England glory. I felt guilty leaving you alone, knowing tomorrow you had an appointment with the mechanic. I felt like I was taking you to the vet, and not so kind for me to be leaving you outside, vulnerable, airing out the damage I had done. You had, in fact, passed every challenge of your initiation. You had me at hello.

So, here we are Doris, in the most North East corner of this rowdy, rough and ready country. The first day we met, they told me you were sold. Perhaps it was the concussion fog speaking when I told them No; You were mine. I forbade them to let your betrothed take you away. I said I had a way about things, and I’d see you in a few days. Now we’ve driven for hours and seen the shore, I’ve covered you in puke and snored in your seats. Now I know you are truly mine. The adventures have already begun.