by Chad Smith
I had been staring at the ceiling
Sun now spills across it
Amanda stopped talking
Last thing she said to me was
“The grind your own peanut butter machines at the grocery store are bullshit.”
She was slumped forward in the recliner
Could almost see a breast breaking free
From her blouse
Still managed to hold her glass
Empty except for bits of fruit
Drowned in alcohol
7…8…9…10…
Ten bottles stacked at my side. Not bad.
I move to the kitchen
Steady myself on the kitchen
Table
Partiers quiet, off sleeping somewhere else
My head throbbing, maybe
More of a pulsing like
That electric device in Frankenstein
What was it called?
A Jacob's ladder? Yeah
Was it getting worse? Yeah
My driver's license photo looks like a different person
My mouth mimics the grin
Definitely not the same now
Surprised if it gets me anywhere
Set license on top of wallet
On top of my nicely folded shirt
On top of my other shirt
On top of my nicely folded jeans
On top of my nicely folded underwear
On top of table
Pull socks off and marvel
At the whiteness of my feet
Sock elastic leaves imprints in clammy skin
Sock dingle berries between toes
Close sliding glass door
Outside cool fresh morning tiny fingers
Tickle naked body in comforting way
Silent sunshine brightness flickers
Like the last frames through a projector
Sudden burst of white screen as film runs out
Flaps as reel continues to spin
Projectionist abandoned ship
Snuck out with a girl or maybe
A pipe full of weed
Not coming back
I walk through tall trees down to the shore
Nature begins to wake up
Vivid cartoon paints color
Singing birds fly around me
Bunnies surely hop behind
Squirrels scurry in branches
A young deer prances across the path
Maybe a butterfly or two
I do miss you and the others
Pebbles of the shore scrub my feet
Sun warms their tops
Wet underneath as they roll over
Okay
So how does this body of water work?
Bay goes to sound goes to ocean?
The tide is up
Frighteningly cold on my feet
Embracing the waves, I breathe in the waters
This will certainly finally extinguish
The pounding pulsing electrical fire in my head
3
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Trippy and kinda sad actually.*
"Sock elastic leaves"
The complete journey.
Especially the closing stanzas.