A Day In The Life Of Johnny

and when and when the sky had spoken enough it stopped. suddenly quiet after a torrent of meaningful breaking rain and pauses. the greenness glistens where the clouds melt, light parting through shafts. snails lay somnolent, oozing into the sidewalk with the passerbys. the drying patches of water. the gleaming surface of things. how the machines look ominous covered with nature, luminous, flying.
i step out through the glass doors like a fly out of a hole. into the quivering air i move, smooth, concentrated on myself. i am hungry, and looking for food. nothing seems to be right. after walking down several miles and back, i finally decide on in n out. i circle around the building and approach from the rear. i order my food and break my 20. i am businesslike and efficient with the cashier. i almost sound genuine when i say, “thank you.”
i wait for what seems like a fairly long time to wait for fast food. i fill up my small cup with dr pepper. i sit down next to some girls on the volleyball team or softball team or something. i notice them just enough to be able to ignore them as simply a presence. i make eyes at a woman in jeans sitting with her husband and her 3 children. she looks fit, trim, immersed in her professional life. i look around me, at the neon signs, the pristine red and white tiling, the soda machines lined like sentinels. i practice showing no emotion. i feel almost buddhalike, other than for my quick glances at the young girls in line, one chinese vixen checking me out from behind her friend. i try to look interesting. i flick my eyes randomly at the people gathered around the square white tables eating their food. i meet the eyes of an older woman with a sagging face casting a look of what i deem to be terror at me. she seems to realize at some level too complex for her to articulate that i am not what i seem to be. i suck continuously at my straw, tasting the soda against my tongue. my number is called, and i take my bag and i curl the top and carry it out. my purpose in the world achieved, i stride back to my apartment knowing that i will soon be eating, sitting at my table, reading a book, listening to jazz. a tall girl approaches. we meet where the cars form a passageway leading into a garage. i glance at her as we face each other, and discover that she is beautiful. i find my eyes focused onto her lips as we pass, full, glossy lips, the lower one slightly open. she is looking at me with what seems to be a mix of amusement and interest. she knows that she is beautiful, but she senses that i am beyond her immediate reach. i wish that i was at a party with her, drunk. something might have happened, in a closed environment. i arrive at the door.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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