Exit 7b

1. they say everything here is somewhere in the middle of the road where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors and there is something we should dig our coated nails into; the layers of regret and anger that our mothers tell us to peel off 2. but the sun bakes us too hard and rancid laying down on styrofoam mattresses where someone pokes their thumbs through the plastic watching nothing but empty bubbles reflecting and life is faded, glossy pages of a magazine with a worn bar stool with cigarette burns thrown in between 3. and we all carry this restless, tormented beauty that gets up and leaves as soon as they say it will settle down © Gry W Christensen