The getaway

by on February 24, 2022 :: 0 comments

Night shift
Past midnight near the witching hour collapsing nigh dead at the door as the sun rises
I’d hear her within an hour or two
talking loud on the balcony
lamenting lost youth and cracked beauty
sometimes she’d corner me in the parking lot with a bottle of whisky as I smoked pot behind the carport
“sometimes you just have to take things like a man”
“you need to be a man about it”
“throw her down and just take her”
“I just need someone to use my body”
“I’m so lonely”
What I could I not do except not follow her into her place
the booze was expensive for her income bracket
leather face, sagging in all the right places, smelled like cancer but not quite
what did I do?
Went upstairs
there was no sex
as she undressed
three cigarettes in less than an hour and three cans of bud light with her whisky
even this was too low life for me
nude and battered she told me about the word of god
I told her I didn’t believe in god
“but you at least have a bible?”
“you’re fucking mean, get out of my house” she shrieked
Big black bible blues
Thank god I got out of that one
waited for the sun to go down
to be done for the day
insert myself back into the night
away from company
away from myself
desperate yearning

editors note:

All in a night’s shift. – mh clay

Leave a Reply