He's crying. It's too much. 3 miles home on a dropped foot, a dragging, lagging, "Good-God, it's killin' me" foot. 6 foot shoulders, skinny now, slumped. He's whipped. Done.
And yeah, the truck blew up. Smack. Pop! Poof and it was gone.
I smile and say I'll fry the steaks.
In my world, his life was saved. Tomorrow we'll call a tow truck.
She dials my number 6 times in a row. Leaves a raspy, breathy message every time. I hear her gasp between beeps, between the canned voice reciting "You have 5,4,3,2 more new messages". I call her back and she collapses, homeless for the night, desperately driving in circles.
I smile and say I'll turn the porch light on.
"Not tonight, baby. You're not homeless tonight. And tomorrow the sun will rise and we'll figure it all out"
I fall and knock my teeth out. I cry. And laugh. Fall into the arms of my new best friend forever that I've never seen again. I rack up a phenomenal bill with my next best friend, the dentist next door.
I smile and don't drink koolaid.
Don't ride anything upside down.
Don't hang out in bars with black lights...
Kiss with the abandon that only comes with age and accidents and peace.
I go to bed with the big stuff rocking my world
and wake up
a thousand times spinning,
hurling if I could....
And then the sun rises...
And I smile again...
Tomorrow is the gift of peace.