Hour 6 – Stuck

A long time ago

I broke my foot

chugging whiskey

after being horribly unfunny

professionally

it didn’t look good on me

so I tried on another pair of shoes

And fell backward over a curb

 

I used to have trouble staying still

not walking

and lying in bed with my repercussions

clanging away like cymbals in my ears

if I could not walk away from them

I would hop or crawl

toward a new distraction

 

Outside on the balcony

the winter wind blustered

smoke swept up

like sweet treats in greedy hands

my concerned partner

finding no broken fiance in bed

rushed outside to find me

propped up

in a robe

on my unbroken foot

in the cold

 

He ushered me inside

and

by some meticulous design

a gust curled through the hall

slamming a door shut

between the balcony and the hall

suddenly

we were trapped

for an indeterminate time

in the space used as our housemate’s closet

 

Immediately

the wind died

to allow us a moment of silence

and there was no bargaining

in the closet

no lock to pick

just two people in a closet

squeezed in between

an out of service bike

platform heels

knick knacks

and faux furs

 

This was not the time for

any number of minutes in heaven

nor anger

but for sitting in the stillness

of how we came to be

stuck

 

In the end

I could not blame

the danger shoes

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