Shevelled
So we slip into the bath together last night, my girl and I, and I feel the worries and pressures of the week gradually slipping away. I wake up refreshed this morning, genuinely happy. That's been too rare lately. I'm glad to have it back.
She drives me out to the boonies, way up north somewhere - Sheppard, I think - and we talk, enjoy each other's company. Walking back to the subway station, I sit under the 401 overpass. I'll play my guitar here, I think. It'll be counter-cultural. A kid stops, asks for a light. I don't have one. He sits down beside me. His hair is almost as dishevelled as mine. I offer him the guitar. He's smiling, he plays Nirvana and Marilyn Manson and then some heavier stuff I haven't heard of. Culture, counter-culture? Doesn't really matter, I guess.