By 4:00, my mind starts phasing out
difficult to look at, my eyes
voluntarily going cross-eyed
sockets. Willingly eliminating any need for
me to focus on words
I don't want this heartache,
I don't want to break down and cry.
I find myself slicing my thoughts into tired cliches, talking
of pain and fatigue like I have discovered
the originals. Crap. My
noding has taken on some pathetic form, like
a high profile sobfest, an online wail
of desperation... Blurry until 5:00,
I coax myself along by typing random meaningless
commands to keep my screensaver from activating.
The bell rings, I grab my stuff and run.
I'm back in my shitty apartment by 6:00 pm. The
day is still crisp, clean. And I'm home, with
nothing to do. What was I thinking when I took
the train back to Brooklyn? I should be out doing
something, with someone, somewhere.
One flesh-and-blood friend is in Florida with
her husband. My other gal pal lives Upstate. I
have no-one to call and drag to Manhattan with me.
My cousin/confessor/little sister lives in
Tel Aviv. I'd call her, but I don't want to
chat, I want to move.
I have people to talk to, but not a soul to
hang out with. How sad.
I have no friends, Mommy.
I change into leggings, a tank top,
my runners. Take a sweatshirt and a bottle of water,
head back to the city.
There is a walkway that starts at the base of
Manhattan and runs along the West Side all the way
up. It follows the Hudson River, more or less, and
is crowded down here with walkers, cyclists,
It's still light,
there are people around.
I'll stop when it gets
I take off running, head down
and legs stretching out. Sailing, gliding on a
momentum of muscles I rarely use. Rhythmically
connecting with sidewalk in randomly spaced spots.
I steady pace, and I
reflect off the back of my pounding thoughts. It's
been 2 hours, I am slamming the pavement still,
72nd street and moving. The walkway is empty,
deserted. I can no longer hear the music
playing in my ears. My shirt is wet, soaked through.
It's 9:00 at night and I'm alone in this city.
Slow to a thudding halt. Make my aching way
to the street, to the lights, and the subway.
I put off the return a little longer, walk the
3 blocks back to a Barnes and Nobles I know is open
till midnight and I don't leave until they kick me out for closing.
I'm safe. My anonymity will hide me.