Lessons Learned at a Book Fair

The rain blankets the street in a mirror glaze, stop light reds and greens drip their paint onto the black film.  I sit huddled in the dark, warm but shriveled, alone and isolated.  The drive home is full of blaring lights, the constant threat of drunk drivers crossing the line.

Now I'm home, in a soggy apartment possibly years from condemnation due to leaky pipes.  But at least, as the maintenance man said, the drips are not constant.  The floor holds for now, but I am not getting any thinner.

My brain is riddled in fears.  My car's next breakdown is always imminent.  The power steering fluid leaks.  The oil burns.  The wheel clicks.  My home has cracks in the wall, many creaks that cause me alarm as I walk.  I fear the floor will give out on me as I sleep.

My only maternal instinct is to my cats.  My heart cries for the stray that comes around every night for food, yowling at my door.  I want to believe that a night spent without sleep (as he is quite vocal when I bring him inside) will be a proper investment in getting him neutered the next day, and allow him to be accepted by my other cats, thus completing his gradual adoption of us.  In him, I see the other strays that have come and gone, limping into the nights long past, their ghosts now driving me towards this new little random waif.  I held him in my lap tonight for a few moments and felt complete, hopeful.

I want to lie down in my bed and never have a reason to get up again, my eyes lying open to the occasional cat who may visit, and burrow under the covers with me.  I want to wallow in a calm and peaceful waking rest, watching time slip by with tears coming down my face, making me dehydrated, inertia taking over my basic needs of food and hygiene.

I am through with love making its demands of me, while never being fully realized in return, except in the graves of unrequited figures possibly of my own making.  I am haunted by them regardless.

I am tired.  But here comes a plate of food.  Chicken Francaise.  Lemony, savory goodness about to drown my misery only momentarily.  Or possibly longer.  We shall see.