Earthquakes had been making
a strong case for hitting the reset button all day.

Unfortunately they couldn’t get their enthusiasm
any further than those parts of the endless
outdoor mall downtown that most people
would just as soon not talk about in polite conversation.

I was nowhere near what’s gotta be the laziest disaster
since those drugged-out middle-schoolers tried
to extend Halloween into a six-month weekend.

It was a nice change of pace
that I had sense enough to stay in on Friday night
and hold onto the fifty bucks sent to me from back east.

Of course it wasn’t easy. The silence in my living room alone
was enough to draw complaints from whatever the hell
has been living in my backyard. Two thousand and twenty-three channels,
and every single one of them was inexplicably playing
the same old episode of Cheers. My newspapers were twenty years old.
All the beautiful girls from the early 2000’s had kids of their own
and were disappointed that I had gained fifty pounds and still hadn’t quit smoking.

There was still you, but every time I did my shot and made the call
someone different would pick up. I could barely hear them
over the groans and chains rattling underneath music
that was impossible to make out.

I envy you your social life. People rarely come looking
for me anymore. I have to go out and find my own trouble.

The evening passed slowly. The weekend took years
and asked more of my honesty than I was willing to give.

The trees were downright arrogant, ugly even
when it came to predicting the weather.

I had a little coffee with my bourbon and watched dozens of kids
from the nearby art school build fountains of youth
anywhere they could find the space. Most of them were
abandoned halfway through construction, and the ones that did
get finished were filled with boxes of wine from the grocery store.

It was hard not to laugh. The inevitable riot was filmed
from more than a dozen different angles.

Meanwhile the earthquakes continued
to circle the same old times and places
like a drunk shark imitating a stoned professional wrestler.

Occasionally clouds turned to brick
and fell from the sky. I don’t even want to consider
the metaphorical implications of that.

I still didn’t leave the house. I caught up on my reading
by flipping through the pages very quickly, blacked out
when the mood took me and imagined anything
was reasonably possible.

Although it was that same thought that had me jumping
on six separate occasions when I thought I heard you
coming up the steps.

You can imagine
how that would get annoying after awhile.

11/23/2010

Posted on 11/23/2010
Copyright © 2024 Gabriel Ricard