Honda CRX

When Ed Go bought his first car his friends called the Go-Cart he imagined the great times he’d have driving around with no one to bother him, alone on the winding backroads of Southeastern CT, cassettes playing Nirvana, Dylan, Marvin Gaye, smoking a cigar and drinking a 40, thinking about nothing or thinking about a girl—what girl? any girl—in 1994 it didn’t matter, girls were all around, Eddie liked cigars, music and 40s and driving around and what did it matter if he wasn’t doing his thing—there was no wherefore what could come down at him making him think he was failing—No, that wouldn’t come till 98 when a girl would break him again—not a girl, a woman—at only a glance—a kiss at the doorway—a hand held too loose—fingers not locking—lanolin smooth and an excuse just to touch her—86 had been a girl but 98 was a woman and that was the difference because he knew a left from a right and a tempering of bloodboil’s beats from tongues worn down, but that was all later—94 was still only coming up on a quarter century—where he should’ve stayed he sometimes thinks, a homeward force shifting, with dreams alive, politics in check, alike like fire and fire’s fury held in thought, there along the winding roadbacks of witches’ wood and riverrun.

an excerpt from Deleted Scenes from the Autobiography of Ed Go as told by Napoleon Id  (Other Rooms Press, 2014) available in print and ebook on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, iTunes & Lulu

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