Skip to main content

Dreaming

I wake up in Kansas City. It’s 2:18. I feel like I’ve just risen from a coma but my eyes are still closed and I can hear the ambulance pass through, it sounds like an organ grinders melody. I dream that people I have known in my life are visiting me, asking me why I am here, and I answer them the same way I answer the zombies in real life, “I don’t know. I thought I was in love.” They laugh at me the same way they would if it was real life and give me that here’s looking at you kid smile. Except, in my dream I’m in my backyard on Washington Place. I’m talking to Scott Ahlsmith and I ask him for a lighter and he gives it to me with a shamed face. I thank him and he tries to sell my mother carpet. She tells him she likes the kind she had in 1985 that use to leave footprints in her room when the kids would come say good night. She liked the footprints. She doesn’t get that he has a good deal and he smiles at her with sadness, she’ll never get it. He liked that kind of carpet too, he tells her. I ask him when he started smoking again. He said, “I’m quitting today, you know I had that problem with my lung, in fact, I think I have to take myself to the hospital.” I tell him I’ll take him. That’s me, always helpful. He says, no, he’ll be okay, he has a punctured lung and shouldn’t be smoking. I hear that ambulance turning the corner and realize I’m not in a good neighborhood. I should lock my door. I wake up again in Kansas City, in a good neighborhood half way to my door I realize, it’s locked and I go back to bed. 2:23 AM.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Gammoned

The shower was running, Parker could see steam come from underneath the door. She had to pee. “Sam, hurry up, I gotta pee.” “Just a minute.” The shower droned on. She went to the kitchen and smoked a cigarette. Her window faced the west. She was watching the traffic go by, inevitably from the beach or to the beach, on this warm day. The cigarette was out. She got up and changed shirts into a tank top.  She was done waiting for Sam to get out of the bathroom. “Sam! Goddamnit! I have to pee!” When he didn’t reply she pounded on the door. Nothing. Well, he’d been in there long enough to drown. She waited a few more minutes while smoking another cigarette. The urgency of needing to urinate won and she knocked on the door again.  Nothing. He had looked sweaty when he came over and the racing gloves in 80 degree weather was a little ridiculous for driving a 1970s BMW around, its alternator was out and he had to constantly rev the engine and use the brake at the ...

Expiration Date (1/15/2021)

  More fountains than Paris and less than Rome, We sipped vodka and trailed along conversation lines. You feel the wire tap, make excuses while you try to dial back the attention span. In the bedroom, you felt sick. Slept next to me, intermittently sighing, I felt your sadness through the alarm this morning, You slammed cranberry vodkas, one after another and made me coffee.    You blur when I’m wide awake. Who found out What Your breath heaves in  exhales long, tumbling downhill. I ask too much. You make no sense. I am left in this prison  we play house in and call home. You fill the air with nervous conversation. Highlight promises, loose bows knotted  in thin air, too much pull unravels it alll.    I hold my breath while you wait. Walking home in pitch black, the snow  falls at my feet, my hands ice cold, you listen to music, staring ahead and stuck behind. I unlock the door and you make excuses like origami, fragile and pretty. You claim ...

Pussy Cow

I am sitting in the waiting room area of Cal Worthington Ford. Football is on the 20” screen that is here for the comfort of their guests while their friends or loved ones purchase their dream new or used Vehicle. Across from me is a bored salesman who came with the specific goal to hit on me. He’s wearing a yellow shirt and black pants, on a busy day it must look like a hive of bees around these cars. I am staring at my computer screen ignoring him, while he taps his fingers annoyingly against the steal armrests of his polyester blue chair. Well, maybe he didn’t come in to hit on me and is anxious for the score, is today Superbowl Sunday? Anyone who grew up in Los Angeles remembers Cal Worthington. Cal was on between Warner Brothers and Hanabarbara cartoons, talk shows and newscasts on local channels. Cal Worthington was old when I was in grade school. Somehow, he’s not dead. In fact, the LA Times wrote an article on the old bastard. He still demands to do his own commerc...