The words: art show eight driving emptiness
There were eight of us, crammed into the car. It was illegal of course, now that we were supposed to wear seat belts. But, oh so wantonly fun. I was sitting on Barack’s lap as we were driving to the art show, passing a joint from hand to hand. By the time we opened our doors and we piled out, we were accompanied by billowing smoke, deliciously high, our senses tuned to a wide range of frequencies and the munchies underlined the emptiness of my stomach.
With Barack’s arm around my waist, he steered me towards the door of the art gallery, directly towards the food table. He turned and beamed his big smile at me as he picked up a grape and popped it into my mouth. “Keep your blood sugar up, honey. This will be a long, exciting evening.”
Terra
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