the damnable death-dealing demon drug stole my soul and left me a hole here at the heart of me; gutted out the part of me that cared if i came to despair and killed myself while waiting for something better and here i am on the platform; where's my train?
'coz it's six degrees out and windy and maybe it means nothing but i can hear the horn howl in the night and i come up near the tracks just where i'd see the light from the sunoco sign but it's late at night and the full moon shines bright and i just happen to be at the place where the brother of a man i once knew took a tire iron through the face and he never lived to see the inside of the ambulance, never had the chance even though when the truck rolls it wouldn't have to roll too far to get here.
so i'm out in the darkness, and i'm afraid of the dark but i'm out in hubbard park, not really alone because i've got Flyingfisher on the phone, wearign my ski jacket which i never wear except when i'm skiing, but hey, you never know.
it's cold outside, gloves off, jacket open wide and there are footprints all over the place and my heart sinks a little but then i notice i'm on a trail but i remember i have not brought my light and i'm looking for the box under sticks, under rocks and i'm trying to kick away all this hardpack and ice and i'm thinking:
who am i trying to fool?
you? would you believe me if i told you i knew where it was all the time? would you believe me if i told you that just as i went to sign my name the the clouds gave way and the huge white moon shone bright as day and i dropped the phone and in hushed voice i left the ring and i left joyce.
so i went back to my car and i got on the road, thanked Flyingfisher and hung up the phone and i was thinking a lot about long lost friends lost to time and lost in place, lost on lines i cannot trace. a name brought out of memory deep, a name carried by that one small jeep.
but this is where my story ends: i've travelled far but i've come home.