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Nuclear Wasted Love Song
- University of Nevada Press
- Chapter
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24 Undermyfeet,Icouldfeeltheclubbelowme.Ilockedthedoor.I knewtheycouldn’thearme,andIwantedtostayinsideforever. Icouldhearthethumpingthroughthewalls—thenonstoptapsoftriphop , strange record scratching, and strong drum and bass. The room shooklittleearthquakes,andIjustsatonthefloor.Thiswastheonly placeIfeltsafe. Iscrapednotchesintoadirtywindowsill.Withsmalltallymarks,I kepttrackofthedayssinceIhadlastseenhim.SofarIcountedninetythree .Therewerenoclocksintheroom,soIhadtotrytokeepthedate inmyhead. Hidingwasn’tsomethingIwasusedto.Asadancer,youweresoexposed onstage,showingoff,asyouperformed.Butlifeinsidethistheater was different. I was a prisoner. I looked out the only window, but I couldn’tseeveryfar.Justafewredlightsinthefardistance.Therestwas dryland,tinydustdevilsswirlingthrough,andsharpmetalpiecesofold hotelsignsjuttingoutofsand. Mylifebeforethiswashardtoremembersometimes.Growingupin thisstrangetownwassomethingthatwaspeculiartoothers,butnotto me.AllIeverwantedwastobewithaboynamedVin. ThelasttimeIsawhim,wewereatahouseparty.Wehardlyspoke becausewewerefighting. Ipouredhimadrinkovercrushedicecubes, andwestaredateachotherfromacrossabrightkitchen. Now,lyingdown,curledupinthisshadowycorner,Itriedtoremember hisvoice,butIcouldn’thearitanymore.Itriedtoscream,butnothing cameout. NuclearWastedLoveSong LORI KOZLOWSKI NuclearWastedLoveSong ♥ 25 ♥ Thebeeswerealldead,andtherewasnohoney.Spring’ssticky amberjuicehadlefttheplanetlongago.Funnyhownooneseemedto thinkthiswasasignthattherewassomethingwrong.Thelittleyellow jacketswerethefirst togo.Andafterthat,manyotherlifeformsbecame extinct,manyofthemathousandtimesbiggerthanthebees.Polarbears, bluewhales,walruses.Theyallsuccumbedtotheglobalcollapse.While theoutsideworldsuffered,too,ourswasjustthelastcitytoseerealdesolation .Sincethedesertalwayshadlimitedflora andfaunaanyway,no oneevennoticedthedespairuntilitgotcompletelydark. TheBigBoomruinedeverything.Allthemassimplosionscausedthe calichetogiveway.Asdifficult asdiggingcouldbeinatownofconstant construction,theBoomleftacavernousholeinthemiddleofthecity wheretheStriponcehadbeen.AllofLasVegasimploded.Notjustone hotel,hereorthere.Butallofthem.Inonebigcave-in,theentirecityfell. Shardsofglassfromamillionhotelwindowsblanketedthelandscape. Dried-outshrubberybecameensconcedinmetalscraps.Itleftthetown awasteland,aplacewherelistlesslifeformswanderedalone.Thedrifters and chemically altered characters roamed around, seeking signs of otherlife.Itwasquiet,andwewereallplaguedbyadeeplonelinessthat wouldnotgoaway. Foryears,allthemagicofVegashadbeenpilingup.Thewizardry, thegluttony,thelust.Wewentfromeverythingallthetime—wildsex, designer drugs, food and drink, flash and cash—to nothing. What was oncelifeonanacceleratedtrackcametoacompletestop.Atownthat onceshinedwithsomuchlightnotastarcouldbeseeninthedesertsky. Acitywithenoughneongastolightupthewholeworld.Nowwesatin darkness. Iwantedtogohome,onlyIdidn’tknowwherehomewasanymore. ThedesertvalleyIhadonceknownwasnolongerapearlstringoffancy casinosandbrightlights.Insteaditwasano-man’s-land.Ahole. How the Huntridge remained standing, no one knew. Its walls weren’t particularly strong like the newest hotels. It wasn’t retrofitted, remodeled, or remade. It was just itself. An old art deco movie house thatbecamealternativemusic’sfinest grungepalace.Intheruinsofthe Huntridge,it’salmostasifwewentbacktowherewestarted.Theplace...