Intermission Impossible

[jack_babalon]

I'm sitting on the edge of my bed meditating on a single black shoe. The reflection of the bulb burning above me floats along the inky black of the polished surface. I imagine a single white sun burning on the edge of night, a beacon maybe, the sole survivor of a last stand of stars. I consult the crushed cigarette left burning in a dirty ashtray for one last drag. A puff of smoke offers me no answers but rather patterns. Somewhere out there Love is bundled under the blankets in a cold room, frisky and shivering. Somewhere Love pours itself one more glass of wine before crawling out of their sweater. Somwhere Love falls asleep, in the arms of the wrong man, satisfied. Somewhere Love rubs it's legs together to make cricket music. Somewhere Love is scribbling madness in a book only she will read. But I am not somewhere tonight. I am here instead. Watching the white walls hum yellow and listening to the wind rattle a door with only one good lock. I turn off the light and let the other shoe drop.