since i'm alive.

i'm visiting mexico tonight. i'm taking the old desert roads.

as dusk sneaks up on me, the tires dig deep into the sand. with a cold-sweat fever, i howl back at the frustrated engine. we both need a strong drink.

i stop right past the border, my eyes settle on a bar made of red clay. the door swings open as my feet crunch the ground; a couple arguing in an unfamiliar language. i pass a look at the girl. she's wearing loose curls, a loose dress, and heels made for leaving. her dark features blend into a breath- a second. none of us exist in the next car to pull up.

"i'll take whatever you have". the incoherent bartender purses his lips. i point to the tequila, my bruised hand heavy. the whole word sits still in breakable glass, the tired face i didn't want to see stares back at me. without ever moving my mouth, i take it down, smoothly. the back of my throat welcomes the warmth. i'm a mold of every other getaway artist, sitting in this country like an asshole.

and i sat there, like an asshole, until dawn. walking out, the sun painfully greeted me. i seriously considered lighting the car on fire and never going back home. instead, i pulled the keys out of my pocket and carefully placed them in the trash. without any second guessing, without any careful means, i started up the dusty foreign road. my pale skin absorbs the heat, and i burn. eventually, i stumble across a motel and sleep for twenty four hours. i dreamt of your stupid straight teeth and your cocky stiff hair. i hardly think of you these days.

when i awoke, everything was stuck to my body. the thin sheets, my clothes- all soaked. i had forgotten to turn the fan on. i started a shower but found myself lying in a bath full of grimy water and bits of dirt. like lies and cocaine, i dared myself to drink it.

i make a collect call to my mother, tell her i love her and that i'm fine; i'll return as soon as i've cleared my head. california is next, and then who knows. i'll call you back as soon as i do.