in this we take comfort…

every night was spent on College Street…over by a library…seemed safe…comforting…very comforting…all those books inside…waiting for morn to come…

a chilled New England autumn…bundled-up in the front seat of an Avenger…a sweatshirt…jacket thrown over backwards…chattering of teeth…

it was night that got me…seeing people…youth wandering into taverns… dollars to spend… lovers to go home with…

a game was played…pretended to be a private-eye on watch for the night…a millionaire’s wife discovered the joys of attentive care…

he wanted pictures…proof of these misdeeds…catch ’em in the act…services paid in cashier’s checks…take no  chances…

one by one they’d come and go ’til closing time…never saw the lady in the picture…supposed cheating wife…another paranoid husband…take the money…

radio turned-on…jazz from Montreal…some crazy form of French tickling my ears…no memories…in the present…i am alone…

and the morn would arrive…sunlight hitting season’s splendor…rays coming through a fogged windshield… empty belly…turning of a key…start of ‘nother day…

we never know the outcome do we…never…changes within seconds…without warning…

in this we take comfort…

Published by: dmseay

The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s