Dear friend: please accept this bad check as an apology. I know I made some mistakes, and while my funds are as insufficient as this apology, I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Could you lend me a cigarette, friend? Or perhaps a song? I’m feeling blue and either would be good for me. A wink, a nod, a private joke between the two of us, and this entire horn of whiskey are all the medicine I need.
Who said anything about love?
I sure as hell didn’t.
I felt like an old man this morning. My bones were creaking and my back was sore. My breath was as stale as metamucil; I did stretches for the first time in years.
It didn’t help.
It never does.
But I got up anyway, hardboiled two eggs, drank two cups of coffee, downed a valium, and started the day out again in slumberland.
I miss you friend and I wonder how you are. Are your legs strong? Is your back still straight? Have you thought about leaving again or staying where you are?
I’ve been thinking about leaving a lot.
I’ve been thinking about leaving and robots. I’m interested in robots, you see. Less interested in them, perhaps, than people, but I’m thinking about robots anyway.
I have two dollars and sixty-three cents in my pocket and a half pack of cigarettes- I’ll make it through the night.
I always do.
I always will.
I spaced out again last night. I spaced out for several hours, the feeling in my chest slowing down- I could feel my heart beat like a bass drum. I got lost in the moment and it was terrifying. I loved every minute of it.
But now friend, I’m stuck at work again. Work, where people are always in a hurry and have places to be. I’ll twiddle my thumbs and dream of somewhere else between cigarette breaks and small talk.
I hate everything and nothing.
I love everything and nothing.
4060-A, W2, my checking account, and receiprs I should’ve saved won’t save me now. I’ll shrug it all away and laugh- money is the root of all evil.
I have none anyway.
I have no patience left.
There is work to be done and no time left