My curtains were shoved aside but the stars couldn't seep through the clouds. There was no window screen so I hung practically all of my torso out the window watching the final streaks of pink diluted into night. Collingwood finally fell asleep snoozing off with the remaining snores of cars gunning up and down the alleys. In the other room my mother crashed in the heaps of her old bottles spelling out new patterns of desperation. But it wasn't her according to the sprayed message on my window. She's gone, and you are on your way. Gone can mean different things right? Maybe they just meant her sanity was gone. Or her dignity, or her love, or her soul, or her will to live. There could be a lot of answers I told myself because I was to chicken to check and maybe confirm my worst fear. I might be truly alone, She's gone, and you are on your way.
The blanket on my bed wiggled and I whipped around. Rosy had shoved under my pillow without my warmth next to him. I refused to be alone and the puppy is my proof. We've got a Mary and her lambs type thing going and practically no one in Collingwood questioned someone bringing their dog everywhere. They wouldn't even question me if it was a pony or a peacock at the end of the leash instead.
My computer was plugged in again in a last attempt to keep it out of hell, but even intense CPR wasn't doing much. Next the useless hunk of metal sat my comp book open and smeared with ink matching my hands. I slowly turned to face it in the halo that my missing lampshade cast. But suddenly didn't matter. A heavy paperclipped set off papers flew out. A bright orange sticky note lay on top.
For your superb poem
Gold doubloons fill the room
the door to you still looms
There were promises if you ever earned
but I grew up and quickly learned
no person is no promise
so coins clink in calmness
on me you cannot spend
to me your promise is dead
Light flashed through the windows and glass clinked so I hurried through and across Collingwood Ave. onto the sidewalk in front of the clinic. The park loomed on the other side of the pavement promising solace in dark branches but I heard a slam and scraping behind me. A woman paced with the ferocity of a bulldozer. When she passed the bench she kicked it hard. She wore a bright uniform exclaiming Grizzly bowls with a happy cartoon bear, although looking at the girls face it should have had more of a snarl with lots of teeth. Between passes in her pacing she looked up at the clinic and I knew she needed a hug of some sort.
“Hey” I walked to her grabbed her hand. She tried to pull back but I put the cash wad in her fist and ran back towards home. Anyone depressed in a bowling uniform in front of an all night clinic needed cash and I needed a guilt escape. I felt lighter pulling myself up hand over hand on the fire escape and into bed next to the best dog anyone could ever ask for.