Trashed Thursday Poem by Leah Ayliffe

The high of the day keeps me warm
Windows down driving my dads black Cadillac, feeling free
Wind in my hair, radio on, screaming with laughter
'Cause I finally understand something in some way or another.
Cigarette reflecting in the side mirror, Cobain singing about how he sold the world
And the happiness is real for a time.
The minutes that pass on the road fast along barren fields,
I didn’t even think of all the noise I’m used to thinking about,
Like all of them and their pretty absences.
The happiness is real for a time,
Talking on the phone with an old friend who tells the boss I am something special to consider,
Isn't she wonderful?
Drinking and laughing at the table with familiar faces,
when I should be busy getting tired on the job,
until the hours tick away to silence and the television is turned up loud.
I can hear their tension all the way upstairs as I sit in the kitchen,
Back door open, I sit down feet resting on the patio step, lost in thought with the stars.
Are we made of the same stars?
Cigarettes and beer and Lana Del Rey as the night kept on,
Getting trashed on a Thursday waiting on a new tune, believing in a new song.