Thursday, March 24, 2011


It is a short hat with a relaxed center. Beige. It makes sense her nails would be manicured in a nice French style since it looks so clean and she has always been the very picture of a classic style. I suddenly appreciate the term classic can be applied with confidence in a thirty year friendship. We are water under the bridge and over it without so much as a blood donation for a biological connection.

She taps her nails and then uses her hands to help explain, I just want to do an eight hour or a ten hour or a twelve hour shift. I don't want to be in all the bullshit. I just want to do my job and go home.

I like to think my own style is that of rebellion, of no style but claim defeat to the fact no style is actually a style damn it so I smile as I look at her and say, You can't help yourself. No matter where you are or what you do you will always take control and become the leader. People will look to you 'cause you seem to have the answers. You look at questions till you have answers. Sorry but I think we all live who we are. Then I laugh.

She throws her hands up, laughs. She knows it's true.

I want to tell him he is scared to write but he wrote me that he was starting to write and my answers only lead to more questions of who I am actually answering so I simply respond that I have grown tired of my own voice.

He is silent so once again I try not to shoulder the responsiblity of his actions. Fuck him. Fuck me for even pretending I know what I am doing. Maybe I should take a pill for what I consider to be moments of clarity.

You are dead to me. This is supposed to be our joke but my heart breaks.

He laughs but sometimes I think his heart breaks as well.

All I know to do is laugh about the dream I had where he had died and I didn't want to tell him but I did and so I had to make a joke of it and it's not a joke. It scared me and scared him and he was always walking away in my photographs until recently.

Here we are. You and me right here right now.

I light a cigarette, listen to the music, take a sip of whiskey and tell myself not to be so damn pitiful.

Grateful for the questions today.

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