He drinks coffee and eats donuts every morning. Stuffs himself on pepperoni pizza and guzzles beer for lunch and dinner. He likes to sit in his Willys Jeep on West Cliff Drive and stare at the girls, and loves to take long showers.
Or at least, he used to. Just yesterday.
He ponders.
He ponders.
What did he make that second pot of coffee for this morning? And how much coffee is left. Did he turn the pot off? He thinks about last night's dinner, preheating the oven, and about the buzzer. How much beer is in the fridge? What about PG&E?
The people walking by distract him. He wonders what they're thinking.
I'm fucked for sure! What is happening to me?
I get out of the jeep and start to run along the cliff as fast as I can. My breath speeds up and makes scratchy sounds in and out. A stitch in my side. Soon I stop to catch my breath. Thoughts chase me again. I pace in a frantic, chaotic pattern. Then run. Then pace. Run. Pace. Again.
Pain in my head.
Finally everything goes black.
***
My eyes are wet with tears. In the distance I hear the waves through the rocks and an obnoxious seagull calls out. Cold, calming air passes my nostrils down into my lungs and up out again.
I am curled up in a heap.
***
My eyes are wet with tears. In the distance I hear the waves through the rocks and an obnoxious seagull calls out. Cold, calming air passes my nostrils down into my lungs and up out again.
I am curled up in a heap.
Live
Pulsing
Flesh
© Donald Grube, 2010
Pulsing
Flesh
© Donald Grube, 2010
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