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Housesitting |
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Monday His cats are throwing up everywhere. it is raining. The dog pees in puddles. Tuesday The problem is that I am standing in his kitchen; in an apartment on a sinister street on scummy landfill ridden with drab apartment complexes. The town is called Baggageport. Like Intercourse, Pennsylvania and Hell, Michigan. When I talk about this, which I don't often, people smile and stare at their shoe laces. Wednesday They wrap things up, label their friends "depressed and dreaming" or "once spunky now sad". Thursday Sighing and smoking and huddling there next to the dog... peeking out at the neat world. Friday Honesty can go to hell. Saturday So, another step forward and nobody claps, the houses are too far apart. Sunday Something vomits below me, I hear that, and I hear sirens. I can wrap myself up in this sky. |
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