Showing posts from May, 2013

I Wish I Was a Smoker Part II

“What are you doing?” he asked.
I am going to regret answering the phone.
“About to leave work,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I was about to put a couple burgers on the grill,” he said. “You wanna come over for a bit?”
I stumbled for the right words, my grip on the mop growing tighter. The Clash’s self- titled record playing in the background.
“I actually have plans,” I told him the truth. “And I’m not that hungry.”
The kind of awkward silence where he knows he’s not getting any.
“Yeah? Well I’ll call another time when I can get lucky.” He hung up.
I heard my mouth make a noise I rarely use.
A riot of my own.

It is two in the morning. My car smells of fast food and crayons. I’m driving home listening to ‘Pissing in a River’ with the window slightly rolled down. The early morning air smells of a faint kind of lonesome. The pages of a vintage Rolling Stone high fiving the faster I drive.
I still wish I was a smoker.

I Wish I Was a Smoker Part 1

Sometimes I wish I could be a smoker. I tried for a little while, but I don’t like routines. Now I only have one after so many cocktails, and I don’t know the difference.  After a long night of drinking, I woke up back at my apartment wearing only an old Guns ‘n’ Roses shirt. There was a head crease in the pillow next to me. Suddenly I couldn’t remember how I had gotten home. He had left half a pack of Camels on my floor. I picked them up and grabbed a diet coke from the refrigerator. “What the hell,” I said and lit a cigarette. I turned on the television. My roommate had been watching Lifetime for Women last night. Click. Without realizing it, my weekends had become a routine: of whiskey, tears (salty cheeks) and unconsciousness. I think he liked me better that way. I was sixteen once. Five years later I still didn’t know any better. He always took and I gave without the slightest hesitation. The half-pack of cigarettes were all he had left me with. I smoked every one by the e…

Bar Food*

*work in progress, feedback welcome.
I met up with him at a bar. A dark bar with cheap drinks and runaway faces. Greasy food and Skee Ball. I was already sitting with my friends at a booth, catching up on our lives and what three fried appetizers we were going to order.
He stood at the bar for a while, talking to someone he knew. He seemed to know a lot of faces. He came back with a Budweiser, I looked down at my empty pint glass.
His face was cuter than I remembered. And then he spoke, mostly about himself.He works outside and every Wednesday takes pictures of Water Towers.
He went up to the bar to order some food. When he came back to the booth he announced that he ordered a grilled cheese, cut into squares.
“Why squares?” I asked.
“Why not?” he replied. “I wanted something special.”
When the kitchen announced that the food was ready for ‘something special,’ the 33 year old sitting next to me got up to receive his grilled cheese squares. I went to get another cheap beer.
My eyes g…