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Where do thoughts go? Im a pack rat and an apathetic person. I cant just throw them out. I pondered this in my bed today, the time was 10: 54 but I knew it really was 20 minutes earlier. I thought about the condition of my thoughts and how crowded it must be up there and I sympathized with the janitor. I than, twenty minutes later, tried to take charge and swung one foot than swung my body , jello from the mornings dew soaking through and through, and I just ended up melting onto the ground. I cursed. Its excusable, I was frustrated. Stuck. I fell asleep again, waiting for the dew to dry up and evaporate and go bug someone else.
I woke up again, at 1: 36 and it really was 1: 36 , but this time I was in motion. Fear moved me, but above that a workers steel toe Wal-Mart bought boot moved me. I was stuck like a piece of unloved bubble gum, stale and abandoned. I was hitching a ride. Fear took the back seat.
The friendly friend I am I attempted to strike up a conversation with this rugged man, but my shouts were deafened by the cars barking for attention. My shouts were flattened every other step by 254 lbs of man. Or should you divide that by two? Either way im not exaggerating, and either way it didn’t really hurt. And I saw no way to get off of this mans boot. So I went with the flow. Went with the worker named joe.
Yup, I found out a lot about that fella being so closely connected to him as I was. He almost lost me up on some three hundred story building skeleton. But I had faith. He almost lost me onto yesterdays copy of the new York times but I trusted him. And when after he called his wife to say he would be working late ,after he said I love you and clicked her faithful voice off, I trusted him when he drove his big ol’ faithful truck to a posh restaurant. I trusted him when he steered his big ol’ boy body into a head on collision with a 5’8 hourglass in a dress that borrowed some black from the sky outside with waist length hair to match. I trusted.
The hourglass and this rugged man conversed over good smelling food. The perfume she wore lured him into listening and coaxed him into sharing. They talked until 12. Until 1 am maybe. I feel asleep, her voice so melodic like a bluebird on steroids. And as I slept they jumped from subject to subject.
“ yes, I believe that bla bla bla something about surrealism and how it frees the mind.”
And they kept spilling words , flavoring their already sensual scented food.
“ oh, OH! I have this book and bla bla bla.”
I slept. I dreamt of this man and his wife and his shoes and his talks. At 2 am or maybe 3 they got up and commented on how good the food was and how much better the conversation had been than the food.
I was walked out with my man and his companion was walked out by my man. She went to her car, and in it another man was waiting. Impatient, no. he was used to this sort of thing. And I followed loyally my man as he returned to his world, to his truck, to his wife.
“ honey, you must have worked hard, but you sure do smell great .”
And he removed his shoes and snuggled his wife and fell asleep happy. I left them alone, and waited for a taxi to take me home. Instead some blue eyed free versed boy came and stepped on me and demanded I take him home. So I lead the way. And so its 10 : 54 but it doesn’t matter because my thoughts are stuck on whoever wants them and I am stuck on the scrawny arm of a blue eyed sea. I might drown today. Who knows. I don’t.
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