A Name And A Few Numbers

The day in question with interjecting solutions, the clouds begged me to leave but my solitude gave reconsideration. How could I implore the long gone lust from the neck of a beer bottle? My memory rang out your name and date of birth as I shoveled through a pile of broken bricks. Perhaps it rang too loud and with misdirection, I could not bring myself to any reasonable notion for such a crazy ring. This is not to say I’d forgotten anything, all that was needed to be remembered for the day had been carefully implanted and would be implemented accordingly throughout the day. But there it was, a thought of you without anywhere to go. I checked the time and decided to keep working through the ringing with hopes it would fade away much like the way it appeared. But with every shovel strike the ring grew louder and subsided as I loaded the wheel barrel. The memory seemed to be turning into a damn heartbeat, so naturally, the annoyance of the situation doubled along with the concern. The sun seemed to stab me in the back, the clouds laughed as they ran away, my concentration was sweating out of my brow and this memory had gone from a ring to a heart. Then the day grew old, the weather grew worse, my job was done, but the memory of you still there. I hid from the sun as best I could and reached for my pack of Luckies in my shirt pocket. There was only one left in the pack and it was bent out of shape, but it was all I had and all I needed. And that heart of a memory seemed to fade with every smoky exhale until it was gone and everything was as it were and I was just left alone to my work and the Summer heat. I was busy on your birthday, so all I sent you was a text message from my crappy phone that read “Happy Birthday etcetera.” Perhaps I could’ve done more, but I lacked the time to try and the will to care.


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