I Will.

I wasn't in the painting mood so I decided to dig out this old photo.

I wasn’t in the painting mood so I decided to dig out this old photo.

After that it got pretty late, and we both had to go, but it was great seeing Annie again. I… I realized what a terrific person she was, and… and how much fun it was just knowing her; and I… I, I thought of that old joke, y’know, the, this… this guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, “Doc, uh, my brother’s crazy; he thinks he’s a chicken.” And, uh, the doctor says, “Well, why don’t you turn him in?” The guy says, “I would, but I need the eggs.” Well, I guess that’s pretty much now how I feel about relationships; y’know, they’re totally irrational, and crazy, and absurd, and… but, uh, I guess we keep goin’ through it because, uh, most of us… need the eggs.

 

I read Breakfast of Champions

in Churchill.

The tomato-skinned-man sits

beside me punching holes in his

flip phone.

I keep my eyes turned down. Skimming the

words on the page.

If I go home, I will lie on the floor in

the

hot apartment.

If I go.

I watch the couples around me.

They say goodbye,

I love you, what do you want for dinner?

If I go I will sip on cold coffee

and the guilt will bury me.

I will be held in his frame for

this small empty meeting.

And I will enjoy it and he will, too.

I lie on the floor

of

the apartment

and I let the sweat

gather on my forehead.

 

 

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This entry was published on Monday, July 14, 2014 at 4:42 pm. It’s filed under Short Non-Fiction and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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