Tuesday, March, 2008

Tuesday, March 25, 2008. What? The sun? We barely knew you were gone. This is your morning wake-up call.

(Lit liquor store signs, short skirts, haze swollen sun sky, lower half of faces with lit cigarettes hanging from them. Some smiles and counting on fingers. Tables, bottles backed into the corners, folded cash under one and used napkins.)
Here are some symptoms: swollen eyes and soft glances, itchy fingers twitching with a laugh or a smile, lips or the teeth on the tongue. Similar shakes of nerves, crippling drips from a fallen glass and the sounds dropping to the floor. Forgetting to watch the cost with your eyes blank and storming, all rolled in on. Running off with a heart in a wheel barrow and tying your shoes to the tracks to keep from stepping off when unsteady, unsure.Crumpled shirts from the floor that can't be smoothed by sweaty palms and the need of a shave. Choking back drinks to blur sweaty vision and sitting in tunnels waiting for the bridge to break, sure someone will try to save you with water filling up. If nothing else, your hurting legs, too tired to allow sleep. Shake 'em off. Wake up.