01-06-02 - 8:42 a.m.
patrick should be on his way back from the desert. he does his best thinking in the car. driving makes him mellow. when we're together, out for root beer floats or just cruising back roads, he opens up and talks about the old days. his one legged father. his drunk mother. a prostitute in panama who took him home to her family. he can remember her muscular thighs but not how much she charged. i love these musings. i could easily die there, in the snug security of his car, holding his hand.