New Mexico, 35 degrees.

It’s nights like these that I can’t stop thinking about you and those deserted middle of the night Albuquerque roads.

There was a dive bar where we drank Bohemia and tequila shots and played on a pool table with ripped felt.  It was impossible to make a straight shot.  It was freezing outside.  I didn’t know that kind of cold.  I still don’t.

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