He was demure in between binges. She was the polliwog in his flying fish fry, hiding under the curtain in the fringes. They were mutuals who secretly willed a corruption, playing hide-n-seek in a hobby lobby of manipulations. She got busy with telemarketers on the home line, keeping them guessing in a cold steep run up of daytime, followed by the evening news, the blackouts and hysterics. The whole enchilada was ready made for talk show generics. Not her. People like her.
She held the boundary for as long as she could and then caved. Her eight year long fascination with him subsided into a temperate love affair punctuated by flurries of drunken fists. This was a special kind of music few could hear, a subculture where the despotic meet those who prefer to be ruled. She had run out of furniture to blame on another blackened eye.
i went all out after i passed my boards today, pushed into third gear like a demon around rush hour, cut ahead of that old man’s ford and made three randy’s and a lucy into the drive through lane of the local starbux for a venti iced almond milk maple pecan latté with whipped cream scenario. i sure know how to complicate an easy thing. but goddam! there’s gotta be more to life than your daily mister coffee iv drip to rocket you outta your slippers
god was involved
Tears in your eyes spoke to the disappointment; how union gains ultimately fell back upon the common laborers exploited on American farms. you tell me nothing’s changed. i’m not sure how to feel. i wash some carrots down with water. somebody picked these vegetables and cut and peeled them, or ran a big machine out there, over the earth. someone with a family and maybe all alone. i remember Dolores shouting si se puede! si se puede! si se puede! she brought a smile to the workers and some hope. maybe that’s all that matters. tired from the day, i lay me down to sleep. tomorrow i will revisit the law at it pertains to my chosen profession, and watch the first of the leaves fall.