Sitting on my rusty dusty in a Starbucks in downtown Santa Fe with the border blues creeping in. The Billy Nayer Show tooting through my headphones, the gentrified place is pregnant with the rich and well to do...you know, real assholes. A young blond strolls in. I remember talking with him when I first arrived a month ago. Cody was his name, he was to train jump to San Francisco. We chatted about trips and locales and far away adventures, he is gay to be sure. The type of rail thin blond Adonis which old fat rich men masturbate to. To nail the assumption, a floppy haired twink in an over sized red sweater crashes into the cafe and sits with his older Cody. The flash in their eyes stated that they were in love. How romantic.
I explain to young Cody it is my last day in Santa Fe. I purchased a ticket yesterday to Yuma, Arizona. I had always wanted to check it out and I thought why not? It has to be better than this retirement home of a town. My transport leaves at the queer hour of midnight and then to all points south like a sinking diving bell, cables severed...
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