Monday Night



How deep is Loch Ness? How warm is her womb? These two questions are most pressing, but as the cigarette hangs from my fingers, my trail of thought drifts away even further. She drives around to clear her head, but there’s no escaping guilt, nor from a lifetime of ghosts despite her still only being in her twenties. There are nightclubs. There are bars. There are women who will do pretty much anything, but such acts grow tiresome, as do those sickly lights that douse the fuckers in town who dance as if God were watching their every move. Or if not God, then a TV crew ready to spot the next best thing who needs to be as hollow as an empty bottle of beer. She has eyes and lips, but so does everyone. She has a decent set of tits on her, too, but women often do. Men are junk, and everything they ever do will be junk. Ruled by meat and two veg, they talk a good game, but it means less than nothing. I should know, I’ve played the same game and done my best to walk the walk, and oh- how it shames me now to have walked that walk. Such awful behaviour. Such dullness in one who claims to be above it. So yeah, I light a cigarette and forget I’m even smoking it as she pulls into a lay-by and puffs on her inhaler. Her chest expanding, she digs her fingernails into the steering wheel. Her bottom lip going, she bites her tongue to stop the tears, but it just won’t work. There’s so much that’s been lost, and so much that will never be seen. Should you feel small when face to face with the world at large? Should you cower at the sight of those who have it all sussed out when you’re still scratching at the stains? Walking around the gas station as she shelters from the rain while filling up the car, I look at the top shelf of magazines but am disappointed to see no pornos. It was better back in the day. There was more fun to be had, but nowadays there’s only rules and introspection, and I fail miserably at both. I fancy buying a cigar, but the problem is I end up inhaling which is twice as bad, but still, it reminds me of Venice and the time I walked around Wycombe in the early hours of the morning six sheets to the wind after watching Eternal Sunshine for the first time feeling as though my eyes had finally been opened to the inner workings of love.

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