dearborn, mi

i can barely breathe in this Midwest city. it's taken forever to get here and everyone is jobless; at least that's what the Detroit newspapers say. everyone drives fords or Dodge's or Chevy's around here and I've never felt so foreign. my Honda made it up the driveway to your ex-girlfriend's parent's house and yeah, did i tell you that i think that she looks like a linebacker? yeah, well, she does. she came out of the house and got in my backseat and told us that we should meet some of her Michigan friends at a basement party called club abyss where we could score some coke. i wanted to strangle her, kick her, bust her teeth out till she bled to death, but then again, she would've probably worked me. remember, i did tell you that she looked like a linebacker...and she probably could hit like one too. anyways, i wanted to maim her because we'd been driving for hours and i wanted to sleep and not go party with a whole bunch of coke heads and i was sure that there was some couch inside her parent's house that was warmer than January and had pillows and blankets. but we went to club abyss and there was coke and i woke up. but then again, i slept. but then again i woke up. it was morning and i met the kid who threw the party. his name was mark and he was nice, but he was only seventeen. and actually, club abyss was his mother's basement, where he set up speakers and a turn table and his mother stored old Christmas decorations and sewing odds and ends. i asked mark if his mother knew what happened in her basement last night and if she cared. he told me she knew and that the coke we bought was actually coke from her friend who was a dealer. and no, surprisingly enough, mark's mother didn't do coke. she was just helping out her friend by using her child's friends as the primary business. well, after we ate breakfast, mark took us in his Chevy across the river into Windsor, Canada. i have to admit, i did enjoy that. we went to some casino and i blew a hundred bucks on some slots but got comp drinks and stared at 'foreign' women. it was so different. it wasn't so different. the bathrooms were cleaner that in Detroit, but the language was the same and the girls gave me dirty looks just the same. your girlfriend looked at every guy that went by and gave them the same dirty looks. that made me feel a little bit better. after the casino mark parked his car on the street and we walked till i found a place that sold cigarettes and bought a pack of player's unfiltered and a Cuban cigar. that was always a little dream of mine, to buy a Cuban cigar but in the end it tasted like shit. now i don't even like cigars. I've lost faith in them like i lost faith in god when i tasted his words. what a sad thought; i don't have faith. we found a bar where a guy was in the corner playing a guitar through a cheap amplifier. he was playing bad fleetwood mac songs bad. his singing got dramatically better with each drink. older Canadians drank. i ordered a pitcher of miller light and played pool in the corner. they were shit at the game. they looked more like chess players. we drank and we talked about new jersey and Philadelphia and how you weren't old enough to drink in the states. the old Canadians laughed at that. i laughed at that. the trip went pretty shitty after that. we scored some more coke from mark's mom, back in dearborn and a little weed in ann arbor, but then you fought with linebacker and we drove back east. i shit for the first time in days at a truck stop in Ohio. we drove through a Pennsylvania night, cutting like a scythe through Russian wheat in the mountains, finding our feet back in Philly. i dropped you off and forgot that i was your friend and didn't call you for weeks.