36 Hrs

October 9, 2012
By , Sandston, VA
Lamont Harman:
1st hour
Woke up turned off my alarm clock.
Got ready 3.32 daily run
6th hour, over a plate of breakfast conversed with my mother.
Question: what are you doing today?
Answer: I don’t know Ma
Question: why?
Because I just got up; I will probably run my route as always Ma.

She replies in sirens, tone and pitch flaring, wondering why…
My eyes traveled to the counter, realizing emptied bottles of ciroc and blue hypnotic
Great… what will this black hole consume next?
Putting my plate away like our conversations disposed of;
Picked up my feet to run,

13th hr. pacing over the sidewalks, counting every crack, each air bubble, mistakes that worked.
Because we not completing each other anymore. Disconnected,

26th I followed our disconnected dots back to weed,
Jazz/blues, and a girl that can barely remember my name;
Wanting to be in the company of you,
Feel as you do so maybe you would notice me.

34th hr. dragging myself to where my soberness knows is nowhere,
But empty storage,
35 hrs. and 51 secs.
Looking into beautifully black
That shoots like you do.
58… 59… hi Ma

I’m home

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