nine hours later

woke up at four-thirty a.m. on august second.
it was a wednesday.
half an hour until i needed to get ready for work.
there was a smokey blend of loneliness and anger
where my stomach sits;
though craving a glass of scotch,
i downed some ice-cold water instead.
all of the lights were on,
and nobody was home.
the cats meowed incessantly
while the ball of emotion in my gut
was spreading through my body like a drug.
i sat on the porch,
admiring the thunder and lightning show,
crawling into bed verging on tears.
when exactly i decided things is unclear.
after tossing and turning in the sweat and the heat and the rain
and realizing i had to be to work in ten minutes
and i was never going to get there in time
and really, i didn’t care to get there at all,
somehow the plan had been formulated.
before i knew it i was dressed and out the door.
packed light: notebook, pen, bottle of water,
an extra shirt, my glasses.
i left my watch at home,
so i’m unsure what time it is,
but i’m certainly ready to go back.

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