I wake to a stranger in the other side of my house. This one, I've known more than a decade. A man of few words. I feel my scorpion shell poking through at my edges. I mask my alien introversion with an hour long trip. I dump my fare unceremoniously and leave with a rictus handshake. I drive a relieved half mile. I park in a ditch get out to walk through afterthought rose bushes and mediocre grape vineyards. I can't help but see the ghosts of old buildings in new parking lots. There's a car dealership crouched like a squatter where my home used to be. Leaving is as bittersweet as it was twenty years ago.
11:08 p.m. - 2015-10-13
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