Shifting

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The more he thought, the tighter he gripped the wheel. His anger was getting the better of him. He knew he was right to leave. There was no way to win in that situation. He was seething with fury. This was no way to live. There had to be a way to not get this upset. He had to learn to control himself.

“Fat Bottomed Girls” by Queen blared from speakers as he shifted his anger. His knuckles were turning white. The driving made him feel better. There was fresh air and endless opportunities ahead of him. The music surged through him, sending the speedometer needle around the dial.

He was over-accelerating by the time he reached the top of the bridge. The tires got squirrelly, but he held tight. Traction was regained through his tight grip. It was a smooth, downward curve out and away. His speed was getting out of his control. He made a conscious decision to slow down. There was no reason to end up dead before anything was resolved. He downshifted to third. The car shuddered as it slowed.

There was a red light at the bottom of the bridge. He was glad he had decided to slow down before then. He sat at the light, waiting for it to turn green. He could feel his heartbeat starting to slow down. The deep breaths were visible in the cold night’s air. He zipped his sweater up to the neck, sticking his face under the turned up collar.

We all have choices, he thought. I don’t want to live my life angry. The light finally turned green, but he didn’t move. The car just sat there with his hand on the knob. There were no other cars out on the street at this hour. The lamps were spaced too far apart and did little to light the boulevard.

He slammed his foot downward on the pedal, jerking the wheel violently to the left. He made the U-turn and kept his foot on the floor, shifting up through the gears to fifth. He was going back. There was no point in running. That wasn’t going to solve anything. He hoped she would still be there. He hoped she would listen.

It didn’t take him long to get back up and over the series of bridges crossing the rivers. His speed was once again out of control, though anger was no longer motivating him. The need to return and talk things out were at the forefront of his mind.

He pulled the car into the circular, gravel drive in front of her place. He rushed out and ran through the front door, glad she had still left it unlocked. He found her sitting on the floor, right in front of the fire he had build for their quiet night.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.” Her tears were fresh. She didn’t look up at him.

“I’m sorry I got so mad.”

“You left me.”

“Yes, I didn’t want to argue any longer.”

“You left.” She repeated. His heart sank.

“Yes.” He wondered what was the wisest choice for his next words. He decided there were no right words. He just sat down beside her and reached out to hold her. She recoiled at first. He allowed a hand to just linger on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He paused before leaning in to wrap her fully.

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Circular Arguments In My Semantical Nature

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Circular arguments in my semantical nature
Feelings expounded in earnest in the rain
Taking life slowly without such hassle
Exact footsteps allowing you the least bit of constrain
Sleep remains to appear in reoccurrences
Unchanged in our former exasperating doses
Unable to look away in these sudden urges
Ticking away, starlight illuminates one supposes

The Coat

 

 

 

 

“Where’s my coat? Who took my coat?”

“I don’t know. Mike’s at the store, maybe he did.”

“I gotta go. I need my coat.”

“Relax man, he’ll be right back.”

“You’re not understanding. I’m going to be late. He has his own jacket.”

“Chill man, he’ll be right back.”

“Why didn’t he use his own?”

“I don’t know. Why are you freaking out?”

“This is bullshit! I gotta go, man!”

“I’ll lend you mine. It’s cool.”

“I can’t wear that! I’m in a suit! What’s wrong with you?

“Check this out, man, mine is here.  It’ll keep you warm. It’s your choice.”

“I gotta go. My boss won’t understand that my stupid roommate took my jacket to the store real quick.”

“Dude, I’m done with this conversation. Take mine or don’t.”

“What is wrong with people that they can’t wear their own clothes?  Why does everyone need to impede on me?”

“It’s not all about YOU!”

“How the fuck is my jacket being taken by someone else without permission at the exact moment when I need it most, not about me? Can you explain that one to me?”

With that he walked out to his car without a coat. He was shivering by the time he got in his car. He kept reminding himself to get the autostart to get the engine warmed up before we walked out. Now he would have to freeze in only his suit until the heat was ready. Each moment he shivered, he hatred for Mike further increased. He was seething before he felt any heat at all.

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You Want Everyone To Coexist

You want everyone to coexist
Just as long as you get the benefit of the doubt
It’s a posh life dining with millionaires
Rallying for the cause you hypocritically shout
Your high rise has digital locks
Believing reports of Global Warming
You’re safe in your rarified air
With common folk exposed when it’s storming
Don’t tell me how to live my life
Your arguments are invalid anyway
I’m smart enough to filter information
Please just go back to oppressing the PTA