When I lived in Storrs, on a hilltop, a consignment shop
Was the only trap door in my city of chains.
Ancient hairdryers and homemade blankets and students
Would leer too long on me. I wore bright red lipstick
Tucked my long hair back and smoked hand rolled cigarettes
To ease the pain and waste the time. Cocaine had a
Special place in my heart, my food for my lack of
Finding a home to call at least a house. I rode the bus
Around town over and over again with my headphones on
And my brain plugged into what others were saying, wishing
Someone would talk to me. Leaving there with my head
Held low and my psyche beaten I thought, this is the
Only place ive ever known.
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