Monday, July 2, 2012

Coffee and Cigarettes.

She sat atop layers of messy blankets, sheets
And watched him with hands curled behind her knees, tightly
To try and harness heat and sweat inside of her palms
To prove to herself that she wasn't dying as he
Stuffed records, ties, a few books, clothing into a laundry basket
Laid a wrinkled grey suit on a hanger over the top.
Paused at the Otis Record. Left it.

I'm disappearing he said. Like you asked.
She laughed. 
Don't pretend you're a magician.
You never disappear.
He slung his orange bag over his shoulder, and she believed him.

She's been dreaming of strange days
Back when it was possible to really disappear.
To become something new, while you become nothing of what you were.
Ancient times, when a man would journey to prove his character.
Return with beast slung over his shoulder, conquered.

No one is patient enough, anymore.
Including her.

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