Sitting Here in my Nicole Miller Underwear

 

I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. Then don’t know what to do…when to begin a conversation…I was reading a play about a guy without a moral conscience.  He had recently been diagnosed with bipolar & mild schizophrenia. His children were recently diagnosed with post-traumatic stress syndrome. That was the conflict. When the jazz began, it clouded my vision. I wasn’t very interested in what was being expressed, but I enjoyed the one-liners (which rivaled Neil Simon). Things could be a lot worse. I was wandering through a garden somewhere in your mind when I saw a hot air balloon taking off in the distance. The sky was gray. So was her hair. Somebody has cancer…my mom…I cried…saw her body…The nurse said, “Do you want to go in and see her?” Didn’t know what to say to her. Finally, said, “OK,” and went in…she was lying on her back (what else)…it was sort of creepy…I didn’t know if I should start talking to her or just sit there and quietly pray, even though I was not a believer…a nurse had told me her fluids had been drained. That’s why she was so pale. I wondered if that was the proper procedure and then canceled. I sat there…saying nothing, thinking, and reprimanding myself for expressing something so idiotic…I sat there…saying nothing…didn’t know what to say…I was tired…had only slept three hours the night before…remember getting the message from my pops…” She’s gone,” he said. He broke down. I told him I’d be there as soon as I could and hung up. Sat there…wondered if I would be able to face my remaining family…still don’t know…got in my car…drove to the hospital…the Black Crows “She Talks to Angels” was playing on the radio…lit another herbal cigg…drank another cup of coffee…no tears…no strange thoughts…just rush hour traffic and the annoying rain…drove into the parking lot of the hospital…”Don’t even wanna go in,” I said…but I did…I entered the elevator…