neon

music city, neon
lights and
dirt in the cracks,
so many habits in
my hands, oak
illuminated by this
tin can sky.
my amber and gold
sit quiet and sweet
next to tap tap
tapping fingernails,
as the lights
glow soft and
swing slight,
like breath, in
and out.
theres smoke
and ferment and
conversation to my left
about hair, and
me, in my bar stool,
thinking about neon
tonight, and loud,
and alone.
thinking about how
right now is one
last step before i'm alone
and moving, alive
in a place i may
grow to hate, but
i could always
look back to the
music city bar,
weathered in whiskey,
burnt in neon,
draped in tired.

i thought i'd be out of here by now. i feel like a hooker, or a recovering alcoholic. driving back to the hand that feeds you.
i'm here as a spectacle, a fairy tale, cloaked in cheap white vinyl mod boots and a polyester blond stripper wig. i stand on a box and get stared at, which has moved from exciting to mundane. it's for the paycheck, and i'm growing weary of the dollar signs in contempt for the hours.
except it's all about the money, of which after this weekend (ironically enough) i will have none. i have spent it all on this weekend, despite my gregarious efforts to save it for said move to boston. and it's all i can think about.
after telling my mother the account of picking up the car from the mountains, getting almost all the way home before getting a ticket for expired tags, having to pay twice the renewal fee on the registration plus a georgia law mandated emissions test, and spending the money on gas and hotel room to work at the beautiful but horribly concepted club at opryland in nashville, she asked me, "well, how do you suppose you're going to make it to Boston, sweetheart?"
i'll figure it out.
i have no idea, but it's going to happen.
don't worry.
those three phrases have been my explanations for a little over six months now, since quitting my jobs in atlanta and going on tour go go dancing with a well known liquor company. i really don't know how it's going to happen. i know this is what i want. i know this is what i feel is best. i'm just wondering what i have to sell in order to get there?
literally. after spending the forwarded paycheck for this weekend and coming to work it off, i have been driving and thinking to myself, what do i have that could be of good use to people on ebay? i mean, there must be some assets i have that can be auctioned off as a supplement to my (lack of) income.
let's see here.
time lapse between this sentence and last: 5 minutes, 13 seconds.
and i have come up with - a lamp.
a lamp?
that's it?
i gave everything i had to salvation army. my beautiful white and black wooden dining set, my tv, my futon, my rolling kitchen island, the lovely mirror i painted myself...
all in an effort to get me here. back to nashville. wondering again how i'm going to get out.
about a year and a half ago, i was in san francisco. i was studying with a ballet company, i was alone in a city i knew nothing of, and i was dealing with the shock of my father's cancer and the fact that this city i was supposed to move to, had now been filed under: temporary.
i remember walking after that first week, down through the city street fair, dodging the men in their ties on those people mover scooter things, ridiculous in all their glorious environment saving construction; reading the signs of the homeless and laughing (best one: i'm not gonna lie - i need money for a dime bag); buying spoons turned into necklaces; watching the fog roll in over alcatraz; and meeting the transvestite hookers that walk the beat in the tenderloin... and thinking to myself, "i am so upset i turned around. i am so upset i turned around."
i dont want to turn around again, just because i'm scared of my inconsistency with luck. okay, maybe not so much luck. but just the natural order of things. i'm a klutz. i trip over things and run into things and laugh at socially inappropriate moments... why wouldn't i think my awkwardness with everyday situations wouldn't traverse to tripping over important decisions and trusting the right guy with my heart? this will not be another san francisco, and i will follow this through with everything that i have, like the girls in asian massage parlors. yes, i would like my happy ending, thank you.
the truth is, if i would have stuck it out across the country, it would have been okay. i would have been okay after i calmed down, and realized there's nothing that i can control in this world. nothing, besides my own death, but i'm not there. yet.
nashville isn't so bad. it's kind of romantic, here, draped in amber, muddled smiles and shoulder talking to my left. at least i know this is just right now, temporary, like shedding a skin after the winter.
music city. neon ain't so bad.

k.