Diversion For A Moment
I must be getting ready for my drive back to my life. Or what I have of a life. A job. A boyfriend. An apartment. A painting studio. All mine and seperate from this.
The Peugot 404 is parked out on the street. I do not park in the carport. The carport is outside, on the other side of the bedroom wall, where my friend sleeps. The morphine creates a terror in my friend, that the cars in the carport will come crashing through the bedroom wall and land in his bed. He stiffens everytime he hears an engine and then relaxes when it is turned off. My car, out of respect, stays on the street.
I’ve had eight long distance trips to the death room. Every time I find it both hard to get here and then hard to leave. It’s just hard.
The boyfriend and the brother are checking the oil, wiring up some stereo speakers to the little radio to create a mental diversion for the ride home. In turn, my wagon gives them a diversion for a moment.