Some poor bloke is outside screaming about not giving a fuck. He woke me up. He is very angry. I know because he's so loud that it echoes. Outside, the shrubbery fails to"Shush" him.
I'm pretty certain its about a girl. Made out a "right under my nose" and a "whore" which leads to my belief but I've been known to pull things from the ether and connect the thoughts between the dots and
make a snowman out of a donkey.
Frosty.
Anyway, I can feel the hurt up here. Betrayal hurts from up here. Him down there. Me in here imagining some manic neighbor with a tiny dog watching the show with his finger on the one hoping to hear a pop.
Guns do not sound like they do in the movies.
Guns sound like a face with a small rip on the inner thigh of her fish net stockings when she comes home. Guns sound like a Carlton cigarette stuffed in the bed frame. A pair of sunglasses in the back-seat. A full pack of cigarettes accompany it. Underwear on backwards - funny mistake. Coming home drunk - somehow it happened while stuck in traffic. On the last night, I had noticed she started taking care of herself again and came home with a rip on the inner thigh of her fishnet stockings. Then she jumped in the shower after she jumped on me . . amorously. We didn't make love. She came out wet. She demanded hot wings. I had pawned something to get my medicine. Thirty minutes later our relationship was over.
These things catch up with me. The engine whirrs. The caboose catches up. Or, more accurately I have finally come to the place where I can accept it. I've learned how to let the anger come and not panic or want to smash something. It comes. I breathe. It passes. Heartache follows. More anger. Then nothing. I think of some close friends who stand to lose everything and came from nothing - the economy - you, know. I repeat the words, "dignity, grace and respect." I feel like a hippy. I think about the suicide evenings - there were a lot of them. The feelings of that time - the whole - seemed endless and like it would last forever. It passed. Those nights passed. Now I'm here. I have the experience. The anger and heartache will pass too. Like everything, if you let it and don't lose sight of the weather.
Yes, as this man's voice echoes the engine whirrs and the caboose catches up and I feel sick. Physically. I think he found out his friend was sleeping with his girl. I said it before, I'll say it again. I don't know how anybody gets through this life without becoming a mean son of a bitch. These days, I pretend I'm enlightened and do the slight of hand thing where I find that in disappointment and affirmation that they are all - all of it - all of them - teachers - even it comes from a rip and the dank smell coming from her pussy.
"Whore". "I don't give a fuck".
I don't buy it. None of us buy it. This type of pain can ruin a man, woman, chimp, mountain but how I react to it is up to me because I came into this world screaming and was blinded by that first hot shot of light, like everyone. That first glimpse was florescent. It would be a long time before I would learn the difference between electricity and radiation.
Tonight. Still. I feel like a screaming baby. It's almost too much. I hurts from up here. I want it to stop, so I roll over, scratch my balls and dig my way deep down into the sheets to claim my chances.
I scratch my balls again. I close my eyes ( it comes soon). I am hungry (now). I empty my mind again. I think of snowmen. I feel like a donkey.
The screaming stops. Now what?
I think i might get up and make a grill cheese sandwich.

