Odes on Tender Specie(s) Vol III: Bad Faith · Track 36 · middle
Last Twenty (Spent)
Reprise of Vol II's 'Last Twenty in the Glove Box.' What it bought when she finally spent it: gas to make it to her sister's. The follow-up nobody wanted. Nalyd grieves with awe.
Lyrics
[Intro] There's a place for things you mean to keep. And a time for things you have to let go. The glove box of that old Toyota... it knew about both. That last twenty, folded in fourths... Tucked inside the warranty for a car that ran out of promises years ago. [Verse 1] We sang about it once, didn't we? About that little paper ghost. Andrew Jackson lookin' tired, same as her. A talisman against the absolute zero... the day the engine won't turn over and the phone won't light up. It sat there through two winters and a summer so hot the dash cracked. A little green promise of one more chance. [Chorus] And the last twenty dollars... bought gasoline. At a Sunoco station off Route 81. Four-point-seven gallons of gettin' gone. It didn't buy bread, it didn't buy a ticket home. It just bought the miles between alone and not-alone. The last twenty dollars... it bought the road. [Verse 2] The pump handle was cold enough to bite. Fluorescent lights made her face look pale. She watched the numbers climb... nine-ninety... fifteen-oh-one... Stopped it right at nineteen-eighty-seven. Left thirteen cents for the kid behind the glass. Handed it over, that soft, worn bill. And the quiet in the car when she got back in... was different. An emptiness that felt like breathing out after holding your breath too long. [Chorus] And the last twenty dollars... bought gasoline. At a Sunoco station off Route 81. Four-point-seven gallons of gettin' gone. It didn't buy bread, it didn't buy a ticket home. It just bought the miles between alone and not-alone. The last twenty dollars... it bought the road. [Bridge] A hundred and twelve miles. Counted every one. Past dark farms and sleeping towns. The empty glove box rattled over a pothole near Scranton. She didn't look at it. Just kept her eyes on the white lines... pulling her toward a porch light her sister Sarah always left on. A promise for a promise. [Outro] The engine ticks quiet in the driveway. The key comes out of the ignition. And that little green piece of paper... is already in a cash drawer, waiting for morning. Just another twenty. But it wasn't, was it? It was everything.