Six days was enough.
I can’t tell if there was really someone in my backyard last night or was it only a dream. I was back there earlier. I lit a fire and sat watching it as I drank. Tequila and beer. Smoked marijuana too. I listened to the radio. The music was sad. And I thought about how many others that had listened to those songs. They probably thought that those sad songs were about them too. Young ladies’ hearts torn to pieces by asshole men like myself. I drank more and I changed the station. I thought about how I am a no one and I could hear the train a block up and across the freeway. It whirls away from the station and it sounds like a spaceship taking off. The fire began to die and I had enough to drink and smoke. I let it die and finished my last beer. I watched the embers breath hot red and I felt so alone. Later, as I lay in bed, another thought came to me. I knew that I never want to die. Love wouldn’t hurt so much if I could live forever. But, someday, I am going to die, and so will whoever is wandering through my yard while I sleep. And love will always hurt, if it was a good one.