you don’t often appreciate what you have until it is gone. they say this. i’ve learned this is true. some lessons they say are only learned the hard way. turn on sad faces, tip my hat foward, shuffle dance and laments. oh, such kissing of hands and cheeks.

outside it is very cold and there seems to be a fog growing from the earth. a steam from the snow. the core must be warming – it is certainly not the surface.

how do i explain that a gear has slipped?

“pardon me, my mood is declining and talking of a conventional life makes my stomach hurt.”

“just like that?”

“just like that. now i hear you ask, or rather make to ask, is this not a conventional life we are leading? tooth and nail to stay afloat with all the trappings of existing?”

“i’m not, but, should i ask?”

“and in doing so, i respond, yes. just like that. it makes me hurt and i pretend and crawl into holes begging the clock to stop until i get well. some sicker hand spins the arms ever faster.”

my car brings me to where i go to piss my days away to make ends meet. my car takes me home to where i continue the same. i refuse to speak of issues of the heart and of the soul, especially when it pertains to me. soon i will fall into the category of a shallow spring. a reflecting pool.

standing and talking to a co-worker about television we laugh about celebrities of note, my tongue stings with the bitter taste of chewed-up gel capsules. i use this a mental focus point. everything dilating down to a pin prick of light. inwardly, i want to share this thought with him; outwardly, reluctance and common sense keep me on track with the current pattern of conversation.

how do i explain it’s just a taste memory and not actually there?

it would be just too typical of me to comment on gears and pills. i can imagine him expelling the cigarette smoke and growing bored with what i am offering.