Working Man #3042 (the blues)

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.

Typing.

Typing.

Typing.

There is work to be done and no time left
for me
to

scream.

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