STRANGERS TO STRANGE PLACES
FOR IT IS WHAT IT IS MAGAZINE
He asked me to come with him
I said "Okay"
We held hands, we chain smoked, we drank too much coffee
Nothing but neon signs, dead flowers and greasy food chains caught my eye
He was looking at me, the whole time
Every freckle, every drag, every bone, every sip
I put on one of his t-shirts
He took off his clothes
We washed our things in only water
We wandered and talked about nothing, which means everything
None of it felt real until we were home
But I realized that it wasn't home, we won't have a home
He lit my cigarette, and got on the train
And now I'm following strangers to strange places
