Albuquerque

A free write on displacement.

       Albuquerque. Where even is that? Texas? Yeah, maybe Texas. Everything’s bigger in Texas, except this place I guess. Cramped, smelly, dirty, dingy, back alley, match box, hole in the wall. Yeah, definitely not Texas’s finest establishment. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers right. Not that I’m begging. I have cash, a little. I thought maybe I’d get a bigger bang for my buck here, but I guess inflation doesn’t care about cliché. Looks like I’m not going to make it big here either. Same story, different town. But hey, I might catch a break. People usually catch breaks from places like Albuquerque. Places where they jump off the bus to take a piss and get punished by an empty curb for shaking it more than twice. I’d been on the bus too long anyways. Bus forty three smelt like last night’s liquor mixed with this morning’s beer and a little bit of drugs and sex. All the necessary life essentials of someone who has nowhere to go and more than enough time to get there. I grind some partially smashed peanuts into the floor. It reminds me of the past, of all the other useless items I’ve stamped out of my life. Trash, but I miss them. Maybe I miss her too… Got a light? Her voice is hoarse, a little rough around the edges and I like it because it feels a little more like home than this piss hole. Her hands are warm, so is her breath and I kind of like the way she tastes and her rack and her pad. F*****g Texas. F*****g Albuquerque. Charity, it’s just a name, but I think it suits her. Funny, mine would be Case.