Bundle of His
It is cold out. You are broken and I don’t like it.
I wake up at three thirty in the morning after a horrible dream. I get up out of bed, walk into the living room, lean myself over the stained couch and begin to pray.
There is a letter that I keep meaning to write, but as I get closer to the truth the pain that comes with it, stops me dead in my tracks.
My cell phone only dials six when free and unlocked within my pocket.
I try to clean up.
In another dream, Gavin my son, is in the other room. I think I robbed the crowned jewels of England. I run to tell them all how sorry I am. Andrea, (my wife) takes me into the bedroom, leans over me and kisses me… I haven’t been caught yet, but am almost certain the British secret police are after me. Everything is stashed in the back seat of my car, underneath all the dirty laundry. An easy find. I am worried what everyone will think. Why did I do it? No reason at all I guess.
While at work, every thirty minutes or so, I notice a faint odor of human feces. Repeatedly I get up and head to the bathroom, pretend to take a shit, while actually leaning over and pulling the crotch of my underwear up into my face trying to detect the smell.
I cry for the first time in ten years. Every thing comes out of me like a volcano, my eyes swell. Snot comes out of my ears until I am deaf. Everything tastes like sea salt. My neck hurts.
I call up my son on the telephone. I wonder if I call enough. Wonder if I call too much? Wonder what he got for Christmas.
I cut my thumb open on a piece of bamboo after slipping in the snow. I need to catch a ride to the hospital, but I don’t have a car. The following afternoon I borrow a friend’s. There is a huge sign over the door that reads all payments made upon service. I tell the receptionist that I don’t have any insurance, but will pay with my Visa card. The doctor gives me 15 stitches and the bill comes to 500 bones. I give my card to the receptionist and it is declined. I then tell her to try 200, she does and it goes through. They will bill me the rest.
Call up my good friend Barthleme, back from my Army days. We laugh. I laugh. It is war all the time.
You Might Consider Visiting