Thursday, December 19, 2002

 

He arrived late and she was asleep, awakening for a split second for a quick goodnight/hello kiss. This aint so bad, he thought. She's mostly asleep and still knows that its me sliding into bed at 3am. Even better, she aint hollering at him for smelling of wild turkey and cheap PBR. She had gotten piss drunk just two days before and wasnt about to judge him for passing out from booze.

In the morning, the alarms went off, and the morning was dark. Good. Its easiest, with a hangover, in the dark, or in the fog. Like a big dog lapping at your face, the rain flitt-flitters against bay windows. She crawled out of bed and re-set the alarm for him, taking care to step lightly so as to not disturb his sleep. It didnt work, so he sat up straight and wondered where he was aloud. She laughed and kissed him on the forehead, told him to shush, go back to sleep, he wont need to wake up for another hour. She was going to clean up and go to work a little earlier today. He laid awake only long enough to watch her undress. She escaped into the bath and he...... slept.

The dreams he had were sexual and watery. The light from outside peeked into his eyelids and the pink of morning became the alarms of morning. He lifted his head from the covers to her face in his, kissing him goodbye from the side of the bed and wishing him luck at his first day of work. The rain made it hard to get out of bed when his alarm went off.


After much deliberation, he awoke and went to work. The nite before was a bit blurry, but from the taste in his mouth, it must have been expensive. His tongue was dry and his head hurt. Where in the fuck did he park his car? Somewhere near the panhandle. Somewhere in the rain that beats down. Somewhere that made his boots muddied walking back to her apartment. He'd have to get them shined somewhere downtown on his way.

Aaaah, he thought, it wasnt expensive last nite because the bar tab was on the house. Good. Its easiest to stay drunk when its free. He'll go back into that bar again later on, and have to pay. But today's headache was free of charge, thank you very much, bartender.

The morning coffee was pulled from the coffee shoppe he hated. The suits that frequent it made him feel unimportant in his slacks with stained cuffs. He held a particular disdain for people who seemingly had no jobs, but seemingly endless means for consumption. They wear nice clothes and read the New York Times, a newspaper whose name is a million miles from here. They talk loud far too early in the day, and style their hair with Aveda products.

posted by Hog 3:47 PM