And Spin It

All I wanted was vodka numbness, to wash the dredges of a week off my soiled mind and forget the Everything. Instead I stood half sober at the unusually quiet street corner breathing deep into his neck and wondering what came after. The famous face walked past our quiet mooring and they were drunk yelling for a cab. Little streaks of light seeped through the buildings and it was still too dark to go home. 

I climbed the rocks to the edge of the city, sat in quiet amazement on the windy hill and watched the sun rise. A group of drunk boys sat nearby, tripped on the jagged cliffs and took in the summer songs; I don't know why. The city lay quiet at our feet, save those relentless birds, always those birds and I paused the music to hear their conversations. I wanted to lay down, wait for morning, wait for a sign but none was to be had. They threw their empty beer cans down the side of the mountain. Who could blame them, in their youth. 

This life passes by too quickly. You need someone who will up and go with you. But I still don't see myself as someone who moves. I could sit on this hill forever. 

The sign will not come. We make the signs where we want to see them. The wind picked up, turned cold. I left before they did. Envied them their youth. Their someone to sit still with. 

I returned to the apartment that isn't mine. Prayed this sleep will be the one that washes the vodka away.