He stares at headlights,
It's just a hobby, he says,
Just a little somethin' I do, to pass the time.
He takes a long draw of his cigarette,
Doesn't remember when he started.
Doesn't remember how to stop.
So he keeps breathing, in and in and in,
Coughs a bit, hides it as a laugh, says
I've seen a lot of deer.
Spits. Doesn't chew tobacco, but he spits like a camel anyway.
Kicks the pale, and laughs a bit more.
I've ate a lot of deer meat.
It's hard to tell if he's being serious or not.
And, lemme tell you, he says, let. me. tell. you.
Nasty little fuckers, they are. Rougher than leather, they are.
And ignorant, to boot.
Just like me. Just like you.
Just like her.
We don't mention her.
He takes another draw, leans back into the rocking chair.
The camera kind of tilts, in a way you look back and smile,
Yeah, that's a home video alright.
He blows it out, this time.
Just like me, he says. Just like me.
Don't get him started, on what he means.
He doesn't really know, either.
Just knows he's got a thing for headlights,
That he really don't want to walk away.
But I ain't no fuckin' deer, y'know?
I ain't that dumb.
Closes his eyes, kinda smiles.
Like he remembers ma's cookin', fresh off the oven.
Like he remembers what it's like, to be home.
Kinda wish I was, though.