I slouch like an old man. Then tense like a toddler taking a turd. I pack my purse, toss my trash and run out of the cafe where everyone knows I need to cough. Everyone knows I was just being polite, not coughing. I swing open the glass door, turn toward the pharmacy and decide on a pit-spit-stop. Turning down a small alley, I find privacy and behind a brick wall, I spit like a tobacco chewing dugout couch. I walk away, disgusted with my bodily fluid functions. After I buy tissues, cough syrup and cough drops, I walk home and imagine dying while everyone else is at work.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
A Wise Friend
A wise friend is akin to a book of old wisdom. A book of bone and soul and skin. A book that breathes and speaks and eats. A book with a so...
-
I want you to be free someone who is heard and seen a child who is free. I want you to feel to move through every emotion witnessing your...
-
In my denim skirt, floral blouse and old olive-green flats, I sit beside Scott in a small glass bank office. We are applying for our first...
-
I am the introvert hostess hiding inside her bathroom. G uests arrive to my writings on the wall, to platters of awkward tension and to ...
No comments:
Post a Comment