Saturday, January 26, 2008

the gypsy queen

she digs up old maps, phone bills and receipts thrown together in a plastic bin as if she were chased from her house by a raging fire and the only thing she could do was knock every document on her desk into said bin.
2003...a map of new york, pay stubs for a job in vermont, airfare to ireland, a receipt for a hostel in barcelona, a receipt to a bar in scotland, a lift ticket in massachusetts, a letter to a friend never sent
2004...kinkos, chipotle, rite aid, chevron, chevron, shell, airfare to salt lake city, hotel receipts from phoenix arizona, another letter never sent
2005...airfare to dallas, pay stubs for various temp jobs, a metrocard, chevron, chevron, shell, receipts from 31 states, a receipt to the waffle house in georgia
2006...airfare to new york, metrocards, airfare to reno, lift tickets to tahoe and big bear, bank statements, printed out playlists of nick's mix volumes 4 & 5, lots and lots of movie stubs
2007...a map of new zealand, airfare to reno, airfare to new york, a map of joshua tree, airfare to chicago, airfare to new jersey, airfare to colorado, another credit card statement, movie stubs, a receipt for nick's coffee shop...I'm beginning to like that name.
years of history, memories, some almost rubbed bare all clipped together in organized messes with no system to abide by.
the maps find their ways to the walls though they may not hang there for long and it brings her some comfort. the kind of comfort a home or the smell of a lover might bring...
but for now, she hangs these maps in places around her room that don't make sense.
and she files these receipts into binders that are serious and black and stark. 
something about hundreds of loose papers floating around a hot pink bin gave the leftovers of all those years a kind of life that seemed to extend the adventures just a little bit longer. she would use that bin as her nightstand; never knowing all the while that the light upon the nightstand was merely a spotlight for the burbling stage below, and all the papers-players. 
"i feel like i'm going crazy out here" she says and he tries to understand.
but can anyone truly understand anyone else's plight?
Define crusade.
so the filing of seven years continues, memories march into chronological order and wrinkled maps hang in awkward places on white walls, but if you look closely enough, the reasons she hangs them are carried in the creases.

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