7:45

He drank a beer and wondered about the word hope. Decided, quickly, that it was a con and went back to drinking. His old paintings rotted in some garage in the middle of a bog in England; his heart was smeared across the middle of Japan; is balls were with God; his mind did the can-can.
He’d sat alone in the restaurant. Earlier he’d fallen in love with a girl selling shoes in the town square. Her chest flushed red. His heart melted with her. He wanted her. He wanted anyone. He wanted any way out. He sat alone in the restaurant. Earlier he’d been at work and hungover and friendly. He’d spoken. Talked about things he never normally would. Gregarious, you might say. And they smiled around him. They actually smiled.
But.
He decides that it’s all a con a goes back to drinking.
But.
He wonders where she is now, the beautiful redhead shoe seller. Does she lie, clammy and happy, in the arms of another man?
He hoped so. He hoped to die in his sleep.
And wake up.
Another creature.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s