Sunday, November 8, 2009

Reborn Under a New Sky

The Lord picked me up and sent me on my way. At least He had the decency to hang around and give me a push. Heaven forbid the distant woman I married would stand by me during these hard times. I look over and she is awake facing the window away from me. It was a long night as the thunder kept me up all night. A fly can keep me up so I shouldn't blame nature. I looked down at my toes and realized that the hair on my big toe was getting long.

I look back with one eye fixed on the lady I once loved, "I love you." "Me too," she replies. She lies. Come on. It was about as convincing as the act of patriotism from any modern politician. "I'll see you later." "Don't forget to take out the garbage." Who can eat breakfast under such duress?

The grey skies were giving way to a healthier shade of grey. By the time I drove off it was blue again. Heck, even the sun began to shine. The park seems to be bustling more than usual this morning. The radio is on. The same Van Morrison disc has been playing over and over for the last few days. I never seem to pull it out. Evidently I haven't been paying attention to it. Today is different. "On the dark end of the street to the bright side of the road, we'll be lovers again on the bright side of the road...."

I wonder. Roonie hasn't been the same since her father died. After I file my bankruptcy papers, I think I'll stop by that flower shop. With my luck - I think it was Plato who said the harder you work the luckier you get. 70 hours a week, everyday for two years and luck bypassed me. It's no longer about passion but about money - I'll walk in on her and the plumber with roses in my hands. Nah. I know Ronnie. She's an angel. She too needs to be picked up. I've known this for a while but simply could not see it. Or perhaps I chose to ignore it with damaging wrecklessness?

Lousy parking lot. It's always the same. Tight spaces and aggravating elements. I won't miss this place. I make my way through the dark, smug, sooty atmospheric hallway of the office. "Hello, Mr. Richards." Hmm. The secretary had that wart removed. She thinks I don't notice. Ronnie has an exquisite beauty mark on her face that evokes being magnificently painted on by the hand of Giotto.

"Let's get this done with" I tell the secretary. "I have important matters to attend to."

2 comments:

  1. Very strange post…hope all is alright…very dark. Love the Van tune you allude to.

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  2. That’s the risk one takes with fiction! I dabble with this and that as my archives show. All is a-otay as one fine Rascal would say.

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