15.12.10

Where'd the day Go

The car seat is only cold against the thin piece of back exposed due to a short coat and sagging jeans. I should eat more, I've told them. But I've yet to follow through.

I'm a bit put off by how watered-down the Chianti has tasted lately. Most of life is that way.

I do a U-turn, flip off the radio and head for the exit of a subdivision, becoming an empty seat.

"See you tomorrow," he said.

Nodding I made my way down the steps, patted his son on the head and moved for the door swiftly with a smile fading fast, losing children by the instant.

The streets are cold and so is my glance. I move swiftly like a ghost to Smith and his ways. We've become one voice; him and I. I would worry but I know it's coming too quick for my sake.

I'll worry for yours.

Spare keys and empty walls; lonely and loud neighbors.
The drive is quick...I think we're flying and is this a dream? I stomp my feet one at a time to no avail of the snow, which sticks to my pants. I don't care about wet socks and cold feet anymore.

Leftovers are the only thing I've time for. And wine.

Where's everyone when you don't need them? They don't read page to page or speak easy.

Can't you ever treat anyone nice?

"Where are you?"

"By the cabs. On Illinois."

"Oh, I see."

What a trip, he implied.

"My phone nearly died after I talked to you."

I pull past the parking on a one way, cars buzz by on icy 10 degree streets.

"Hold on I have to get stuff out of the trunk."

I stack what I can, drop receipts. Pick them up. Drop them.

I'll have to kick the door open from the inside, I say to myself. Where's the key? Under the mat, he said. You idiot.

Jumping, slipping and running; reaching under the mat and pulling the blue-tagged key. The passenger door opens quick, I hold the driver-inside door latch and push; nothing. I swing my legs under the wheel and press on the center of the inside. It sticks and then gives as a dusting of snow coats my face, pants and the driver seat.

Grab the boxes, receipts and head, I say to myself. There's no where to go but down tonight. No reason getting disgusted but with myself.

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