(To the tune of “Gold Dust Woman,” by Fleetwood Mac).
Here I stand. Where am I standing? In a long narrow hallway. Music. Where is that coming from? It pulsates through the wall. Leading my way through the hall to find it. The long somber hall pulsating with Gold Dust Woman sings to me as if it were my life story. My answer to my problems are out of this hall. At the end, there is a party, a low-key but large party of people strung out on acid. The bass reverberates and flows in and out of my body. There he is. Dead in the middle of the large room weaving in and out, dancing like a fool. A fool with a woman I do not know. Do I care to move? No, he is lost with little priority on his mind. My answer is there, the final answer. I have lost him. Gone forever.
His eyes meet mine. Purposely I make no effort to show an expression but rather no expression. Recognition washes over his face followed by what has just occurred. His last straw was broken and no other chances were to be given. He knows just that as many times I have found him in this very same predicament. His face lingers on mine knowing his mistake but also knows not to approach me because forever is gone now. Us. Forever for us…….is gone.
Walking away, I decide I must leave this place, leave the city, and the state. Not caring for the people of this residence anymore, the surroundings, the way anything looks here; it is all very boring. A switch was toggled and I just don’t care. A new start must happen but not with the people here who do not share my interests. Why did I ever think that a place like this would provide me home? An exploratory mind with a keen creative sense in the arts , why would I ever find a man in an industrial city that is so dependent on cars? Everyone works for the same box of a company. Where is the like-minded creative people who I long to share my ideas with of non-conformity?
Getting into my SUV, with a few pre-packed bags, I leave in the night, heading west. How far will I go until I know it feels right to settle? Again; that song. Gold Dust Woman in my vehicle. It is fitting that it is here too. Driving into the night, the song is no longer sad but telling a story and that story is good. Good in that I must leave all behind to get on with it. Getting on with my life, make up for lost times over frivolous men, and stagnant jobs. There must be more to my life than that. No turning back, here I go.