Got the news

in the checkout line. Drank the beer in the office with the door closed. Cried a little while scrambling eggs.

 

Froze in the middle of the bed.

Waiting

 

is the worst.

Now I know.

 

He said I have lots of applications in me. Is that a nice thing to say? Applications are like lottery tickets. It’s the possibility that’s addictive. You begin to imagine yourself in different regions. Terrains. Cohorts. Outfits. You calculate the respective costs of living. You live for it. You live in it.

(Until you don’t)

you point yourself towards it

until you get the news that a decision has been reached

a decision is available to torque you by your collar and about your face, then body, then spirit.

Chest pains.

(Dis) a POINTment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OK, maybe spirit is a little too far. Don’t give them your spirit for God sakes.

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