January 13, 2009
Black day at Bad Rock
Afternoon. Doctor’s office.
Sounds of gagging, snorting up snot, country music. It matches the wide-plank wooden floors, cane-seat
chairs, kleenex boxes safe in red-white-pink knit cozies on the oak end-tables. The woe-man singer – her heart is bleeding.
Evening. Home from work, more work under my arm. Heat up the last of the borscht, finish
Saturday’s acrostic. Point, click and I’m
watching Law & Order, The Mentalist.
Law. Order, however mystically
achieved. Winners win and losers go to jail.
I go to bed still steaming because I overheard X and Y: B and I are paid
entirely too much. Plus, I jump around too much. Can’t I talk a straight line? Announce the whatever,
illustrate, restate, give a practical application. “Jemus, skip the big
words. What’d he say yesterday?” “’Dystrophic?’” “Jemus.”
w
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