In 1994, when I was in high school, I fell off a waterfall and busted my head open.
A year later, I went back there, with my boyfriend and two other friends to see it.
On the way home, I flipped my ford escort over, totaling the car. When I saw the wrecked car in the junkyard the roof touched the ceiling. We all should have been headless and yet, amazingly, no one was hurt.
My mother told me there were certain places that certain people shouldn’t go. And if I went back there she’d disown me.
I took her advice and I’ve never gone back.
Thanks to AJ Huffman at Pyrokinection for taking this poem about that accident.
And also, RIP Lou Reed. I was talking to my husband at his yesterday and, while listening to his music, he said, “Poor Lou Reed.”
And I said, yes, but he was 71 (which is pretty good for a rock n roll lifestyle) and also, he was LOU REED. I mean, honestly, he had a better life than any of us poor shlubs will.
That said, we’ll miss you Lou. Thanks for the music.
Peace, Love and Starbursts,