Friday, December 3, 2010


Sounding, beeping, prying.

Once. Again silence. Second time, now silence. The images fade in and out. He comes in, we talk, he leaves. Alone. Raisin Bran. I move - it isn't enough. I take them off and pull on the other ones. I kneel at the chair. Fill the water and step into the cold air.

Running. Scan the key and walk in. Occupied - whatever. Up and down. And over. Empty now. I turn it on and spin up the volume. Step on, hit the buttons. Running. Stinging, sweating, hurting, smiling. Done. I step off. One walks in with a pretty pair of long porcelains. I glance in the mirror. Oh well. She reads. I lift. I check, she doesn't. Lay on the decline - up and down again. Change - the sound shifts from heavy to electro. I think of someone who isn't here. Another walks in and starts at the TV. I decide to leave early.

Outside again. I like the air, my ankle hurts. Something says walk, something louder says run. I do what I can, taking them two at a time. I am back in. I turn off the heat and walk through. Panting. Another glance in the mirror - no more. I drag the electric over my face - over and over. Wish he hadn't taken his. Hot water, body wash and vibrato. Then towel, lights, I leave the fan on. Touch up the job. Run the stuff she picked out through my hair. Reach for the clothes. Missing. Laundry.

I lay on the carpet. Aloud, in French, one chapter - done. Waiting. Over to the computer. Music and dancing, even some movement. More time, more laundry. Wipe the counter. More music, more video. I remember the old days. The stage. I think of editing - I look, but can't find. Italy, but only for a moment. I laugh.

They left some cold pizza. I eat, one then one again. The clock. Late afternoon. Folding. Send a text. A call - solicitor. I listen to Africa.

Typing, typing. Half a day done.

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