13: Luck
I felt more like myself today,
not a lot,
but just a little.
work is over
but it's cold,
no vehicle to drive me,
so in the snow I walk
I see the line
but not a painted one,
it's jagged,
not as straight as I'd like,
but I've actually come to love the asymmetry
my feet still step on the wrong area,
sometimes I skip a little slide
as I dance my way to my mundane job
I feel over and underqualified for
in the same moment.
I like it
kind of ...
singing,
walking,
clicking
straight lines have no rhythm
I can dance on the cracks in the street
clicking in time with the beat
after work lets out
its dark menacingly bright
damn reflections from snow banks
and low 20s temperatures,
so I'm bundled with my scarf
and compression arm warmers,
leg bag, notebook,
my keys, pen,
what did i forget ?
fuck no keys
I click
...it's fine
I reach into the hole in my boot
I've decided to sit outside
on the back porch,
it's fucking snowing again?
Well, at least there are a few cool icicles
I breathe deep as it's heavy through the nights sky
between the garage and the porch
there isn't much room
but it's all fenced in,
kind of protective
though you can see through it..
I never want to be somewhere that doesn't have a porch
I've been active
and feeling well
even riding the bike around
exercising for fun
When I don't know what to do I just do something ... anything.
but still...
I'm sad.
It's cold enough the dog won't come outside with me
unfortunate
as i debate how to fix my vehicle issues
it's hard to be a driver
when you got 3 down.
I hear a couple arguing,
loudly from a couple blocks away
it's late,
I'm tired,
and he's just called her a bitch ...
from a block away
men, I growl
always men,
always loud,
always assholes
I didn't know the context
I didn't care
the front door opens on it's own
as if to give me justification
for that which I did not ask
the side walks are covered
I walk hurriedly to gas station
as tires squeal
under the breathe of the man
screaming obscenities
as the crying woman
now left
cast a stone
but only for the ego
of the man's sake.
the night cracks
a voice tears through the sky
electric, static, fuzz,
it's shrill,
like a murder scene
at a horror movie drive up
the night cracks
gunshots
from behind the parking lot dumpster
it's rare to see
the woman is there
only slight wounds
but no steel had pierced her body
the room was smaller than I imagined
the room now distraught broken
the house within it's walls had another story to tell
"I don't like furniture much" at least the floor is cold
most of the stuff here is broken
they don't make these anymore
there's a slight change in tone
the woman mutters "men are such assholes " as she cries about being unlucky in life, in love
I wasn't interested in her voice
I wave my hand as if to signify I heard her but the truth was I didn't care
I don't believe in luck
why are you doing that ?
"I've always been this way" I smile, or, at least what I think was a smile,
add a laugh
I kneel
it helps when you can't see yourself
I flip the penny to the heads side and lay it somewhere visible
I look up and see her
we are young in our eyes,
it's not portrayed on the page correctly
Have I always been this way?
"that doesn't make sense" she laughs "we don't believe in luck"
"That doesn't matter you know that." I say smiling, or, at least what I think was a smile. The penny isn’t about superstition — it’s about leaving behind something that says I was here, and I didn't destroy this moment for someone.
"Do you want a piece of candy ?" she smiles back
I tilt my head and click.
