the perfect storm

the perfect storm. it’s on the horizon now and moving inland. and she doesn’t see it. sitting here on this park bench.

the sun. it’s a beautiful day and she’s a sweetheart so what is she doing here? surely she knows there’s someone better out there. why is she still here oh god why does she stay? it’s going to hurt it always does.

shit shit shit! anxiety surging. it’s coming.  from the far end of the park. the top of the wave. it’s off in the distance. it’s coming blasting through the cement and cast-iron fence. self-respect confidence swept out to sea and the wave surges but hasn’t broken yet. why aren’t they running? they just stand there doing their tai’qi.

it’s at the gate now. self-loathing frothes whitely it peaks and crests sweeping over the old men with their chinese chess-pieces. the horror, the horror. they’re all going to perish. it’s coming.

she’s incredible and this moment should never end but the toothpaste and milk have run out. without milk there’s no breakfast. how’s she going to take it when she finds out there’s no room? it’s going to hurt but don’t let it.

it could be love, it is love cynics be damned what do they know?