There was a woman who came and found me. I was sleeping in a house without electricity. A trash bag held what clothes were left. She packed me into her car and drove us to another state.
But that didn’t work. Eventually I ended up somewhere else, another part time savior, another expressionless wait. Counting back until the relaxation came by for a kiss. It could be a lot of counting.
Life at that moment was swamped with a series of and then‘s. All of the digested information leading up to there became a useless conduit leading back to shame.
And then I’ll have enough to wrap myself in luxury.
And then I’ll have told them the best they had on me was nothing.
And then I filtered out into a long series of incredibly mundane debates with myself.
But, eventually, there was an ‘and then’ that centered on a room and a closet and a phone.
And then there was a job.
And then I wrote something to someone.
And then that someone wrote back.
