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I trip up the curb because I am looking at the sky

August 1, 2008

And while I have had these legs, this brain, this body for quiet sometime it is still a confusion as to how and why it works. My heavy solid brass heart on my key chain bounces against the back of my hand as I climb the cement stairs to my front door. Through the double glass doorway I can see my reflection not as chiseled as it was when I left the house earlier tonight.

My feet hurt and I wore the wrong shoes to dance. Dancing without a partner is great in a club and I think back to when my mom was a girl and you just couldn’t dance by yourself without being called a spaz or a retard. It just wasn’t done. My shoulder hurts from that tall asshole who kept pogoing around the dance floor and his sharp meaty elbow kept coming down on my back. I tried shouting at him to watch it but he really couldn’t hear me. I moved away from his spot but he kept making his way around. That should have been a clue to pack my evening in and let it go and go home to sleep.

One night off a week to go out isn’t enough I think to myself as I pull off my shoes and change into a t-shirt to sleep in. Walking across my floor it feels lumpy with piles of sweaters, jeans, dresses, skirts and I wonder if it would be more comfortable to just sleep on the floor than my shitty bed. I put on some 45 record with the volume down low and wish I had thought to ask Linda for a sleeping pill. She eats them Pez and I can always scam one off of her.

I have to be up at 6:30 and its almost 4. I sit in the dark, listening to the one song and wonder if I should lay here and sleep for 2ish hours or should I just get up, go have breakfast after a shower and then go right to work.

Herding small human vermin around all day is exhausting and tomorrow is a go to the pool day with is long and hot and drawn out. Then I have to bartend or waiter later in Fells Point so that means I will be up until 3am again to be back up again at 6:30.

No wonder I do drugs.

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