It has been tough to ignore the water. Your socks are wet. And the bottom of your pants. But you push past it. It beads on your forehead. The pads on your fingertips shrivel and pull away. You can smell it.
That's what bothers you.
The scent is everywhere. When your eyes are covered you can feel it draining out. When you're dry it's still in your nostrils. It's been there for years. It's been there forever.
Monday, March 26, 2018
The Middle of March
Posted by anthony at 12:41 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 01, 2018
One step at a time
Your attention is divided. I can tell. You stammer over a few simple things you used to always say. You grab your own face and rub your eyes clean of sleep.
But you didn't sleep much last night. The window was open and you could hear the new curtain. It is lighter than you expected. It only bothered you enough.
Lately your dreams revolve around this old three bedroom house. It has a different yard then you remember. But that is all that changed. And the furniture. There is more of it. And it doesn't fit together. People who never went there are standing in the kitchen. They are talking to strangers. Strangers to each other. But not to you. And they are saying a lot of nothing.
I guess not much has changed.
Posted by anthony at 9:34 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
The same old
The smell of my feet makes me uncomfortable. I left my shoes outside of the front door of the last three apartments to not drag it in. But here it is. And I can't avoid it. You run from something long enough and eventually you forget about it.
Posted by anthony at 9:44 PM 0 comments
Labels: get better, keep going, Keep trying
Tuesday, April 07, 2015
Further and further
Lacy cleans the windows once a week. On Thursday. One week she does the inside. The next week the outside. Except the small window in her closet.
Posted by anthony at 9:27 AM 0 comments
Labels: open roads, the good new days, Yellow birds
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Never Not Near
There is a pile of ripped up paper by his feet. Bits of popcorn that doesn't make his mouth dot the perimeter of the pile. His companion looks back towards the road they took in and squints to read the sign. His elbow brushes her arm.
"Huh?"
Ralph keeps staring forward.
"Why not the favorite Ralph? Why these long shots? Why do you do it to yourself? Just go with them. Ralph, go with the winner. Go with the winner."
She pulls out the chair at the short table and asks to change the channel on the television to her right.
"You can't smoke in here."
She removes the cigarette from her lips and flips open her wallet. Her fingers graze the ends of dirty bills while she counts backwards in her head.
"Six Seventy-Two please."
Ralph wrings his hands then flattens his shirt against his bulging gut. He pulls a paper from his pocket and blows it a kiss.
"Go with the winner."
Posted by anthony at 3:47 PM 0 comments
Labels: california, triple crown, wagers
Friday, May 16, 2014
Salad Days
We spent all day in the car. I haven't driven like that in ten years. We checked landmarks and empty buildings off a list of places that shaped us. You pointed to an exit that you just drive past now. I stole drags from your cigarette. I made sure to hold it in as long as possible. And to graze your fingers in the exchange.
I kept my window closed. The smoke sat in front of my eyes and the headlights bloomed. You sang along with a girl younger than you but knew your pain. Somewhere down the road I sat.
I watched us pass by, a blinking of eyes and swirl of tongues. I counted stripes to see how fast we went.
We passed a plastic bottle of lemonade that had turned sour from the heat. It only amplified the booze we got that morning.
I never wonder how I got here.
You told a story of your mom and her patron saint. Of her knickknacks and charms. Of her rituals and spaces. And how you find yourself slipping in. And for all your flailing you just sink deeper. And maybe you should just swim. Or maybe you should just stop.
I count your breaths and think of gardens I read about and gardens I've seen. I name boats after the children I'll never have. And breathe life into plans I'll forget in the morning.
I could apologize for the world. I could board up the windows and doors and let it all go. I could make a list of names that never meant anything to me.
I never wonder how I got here.
Posted by anthony at 1:50 PM 0 comments
Labels: st. anthony, tightropes, watermarks
Friday, March 21, 2014
sports
I have never pounded on a door. I have sat half way up the stairs to the landing of an apartment. The little stones pressed into the hand I sat on. I examined the skin on my knee and tried to work out plans for the morning.
Posted by anthony at 4:17 PM 0 comments
Labels: back at it, ghosts, Time for a new label