Post 24

The walls in the place swelled and retracted. I breathed in correct time.

I had forgotten… It has been so long.

He came out, sat something down on the table, quietly, as I hammered away.
Finally, I look up when all is out, and I beam at him.

I say, “Too long old friend. Too long.”

He’s a big man, a teddy bear of a creature. Warm chocolate eyes, and strong arms.
He gives me an engulfing hug, lifting me from the ground.

“I see you haven’t grown any,” he says.
“Can we fix that tonight? I’m starving, feel as if I haven’t eaten in weeks.”
“Of course, love. Of course. You’re my guest tonight. It’s on the house.”

I take a seat, gesture for him to sit with me for a bit. I finally look at what he placed on the table, and laugh loudly.

He said, “It’s your favorite… Figured you deserved it after seeing you trip on your way in.”

I thanked him, and we caught up everything we could in the brief ten minutes he had to spare.
He finally stood, as he was getting nods from his employees, wordlessly saying that he was needed.
Walked around the booth, ran his chubby fingers through my hair, kissed my cheek.

…And I went back to working.

Every time I look up, take a break long enough to notice the walls breathing, sip on the wine…
I find myself thinking the same thing.
I can’t shake it.
Not sure I’d want to if I could.

Something about it reminds me of the 24th post late one night out in the middle of nowhere.
Wondering if lightning would strike it again.

I’ll give you a pendulum to swing from.

When a girl really needs a motherfucking drink it’s when there is no beer in the refrigerator.
When the liquor cabinet is empty.
When the wine fridge is un-stocked.

Save for a fucking bottle of vermouth, and who the fuck likes that?

Granted, timing has never been a good friend of mine. You’d think that after a history of having an estranged relationship with something that may not even exist, you would be comfortable with it because you’d know what it does. Or rather, does not do.

This is in fact, not how it works.

Timing is a whore of a child birthed in a fish alley. Putrid, amongst the decay.

Something overlooked, but creating the stench that permeates and clings.
Something that exists long after the moment occurred.
A reminder.

Yes, time is a whore.
Working for free.

Raccoon eyes for Mulberry Street.

Last night, in the midst of not sleeping, I stepped out onto my front porch with two fingers of whisky.

Typically when I retreat to that area of my house I’m found idly swinging, using the big toe of my left foot to maintain the motion. But last night, I sat on the steps that lead up the hill.

The last time I sat on that particular spot was when I received the best dead mom joke to date, appropriately timed on the anniversary of her death, some years ago.

Last night, as I sipped my whisky, and listened to hard shells crooning, I caught something out of the corner of my eye, from the top of my hill.

A raccoon making his way down the street.

I was quiet, because I wanted him to settle near.

He gets to the part where steps meet street and stops, looking up at me.

I raised my glass to him, “Evening, good sir.”

He makes a murring noise and stays put.

“Lovely night for a stroll, ey? My garbage bin is in the back yard. Help yourself, handsome fella. There isn’t a lid on the green one.”

He looked at me crossly, as if I had offended.

“Jesus. Remind me to never be hospitable to a raccoon again. Care for a cigarette? I’d imagine those that wear masks without retire are smokers found in the shadows.”

He put a paw up and I wondered if he was gay.

“I’m a fan of masks. I find myself wanting to collect them. I’d wear them constantly. I do always keep a bandit mask in my purse, because you never know.”

Silence.

“I swear I’m not trying to impersonate. But really, could you blame me? How do you feel about Mario in Super Mario 3 when he morphs into a raccoon?”

He started to back away. Obviously tired of my conversation.

“Arrivederci.”

I watched his bushy tail as he moved on down the street.

The little bastard never looked back.