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i am standing outside against the work building. its almost cliche. its very predictable.
i am also watching the birds. they are huddled up on the telephone pole instead of the building they often perch on.
the sun is coming out and i have to squint when a ray breaks the cloud.
the girl is walking around the corner from the other street behind these buildings. her patchy hair is looking more punk then mental detainee and i grin. i didnt know the natural color was mouse brown.
she waves when she sees me.
i ask her hows shes doing. she flashes me the deadpan eyes and suggests that i just might be a dick. we laugh a little and i shuffle my feet. she pulls out a monarch from a soft pack she had in a pocket sewn to her left arm. sheepishly mentioning to me that beggers cannot be choosers. i just nod back.
we put our backs to the wall and sit down. she notices the birds.
"how do you think the old man is?" i asked.
"he's alright. he's been busy. he asked me the same question about you last time i saw him." said the girl as she bushes some ashes off her jacket.
girl: well enough mindless conversation. do mind if i just skip to the point?
me: *shrugs* sure, its your dime.
girl: what the hell is going on?
me: im not sure. its like i used to have a life that was one way. very static. unchanging. and suddenly something good happens... then another.. and then yesterday another good thing... *stalling*
girl: and... well. good is good. i think thats a line you use.
me: what if you took three different kinds of good and you found out that you have to pick one of these goods? just suppose that by simply having these goods on your plate that they have made things bad in your head.
girl: *sighs* jesus christ. winters. shut the fuck up. talking to you can be vague... but christ. *shakes head* okay riddle box, what next?
me: nothing. thats the thing. i am just going to follow the stream until it forces me to pick.
girl: alright. lets hope it gets better soon... and since i am feeling honest. i told the old man that he needs to come back and maybe take my spot. sometimes talking to you is fun. sometimes... not so much. it wears a girl down to the knub.
me: *rolls eyes*
girl: last night, when your friend told the waitress she could join you guys for a smoke and you told her she was welcome to but its not much fun... she joked back "yeah, i noticed that about you, usually when i get off work after you are in i spend alot of time in the bathroom. crying. a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other... avoiding the mirror."
me: yeah. but you left out the part where i told her my side of the table was 'the mope zone'.
smiling for the first time today. i feel my head clear some. i lean over and ash on the girl then tell her she can go anytime she wants but she can never leave. calling me a cunt and tossing her smoke at me... while announcing shes had enough.
girl: did you just use a lyric from hotel california in conversational terms?
me: because you like it.
girl: *ignoring me and walking off* i think that just gave me aids.