Lost Angeles

Maybe he is sitting at his folding card table. The only light passes through a distorted venetian blind from the blinking red neon ‘no vacancy’ sign outside. He brushes Moon pie crumbs off his thick black chest hair. He takes a swig of vodka right from the bottle and wipes his mouth on his Armani knock-off shirt sleeve, lights a Pall Mall and fumbles around unsuccessfully for the ‘on’ button.

He flips open his flip phone and hits speed dial. In a fluent non-English language, he converses with a man on the flip side.

The lens cover pops off and the screen comes to life. He scrolls through the images, quickly at first, but then slows down when he realizes a story is being told. He crushes out his half smoked smoke in an empty pizza box, switches to broken English and laughingly tells his pawn connection he’ll be there come morning.

When we lose certain things in life, most of us learn to accept the absence, usually after a bout of grief, disappointment or finger pointing. In my case, I undoubtedly experienced all three consecutively. However, when I pointed my finger, I happened to be standing in front of a mirror. The grief was short lived, like a time elapsed film of a seedling sprouting into a full grown plant and then withering and disappearing into the dirt.

The disappointment…I will always struggle with the disappointment, after all, yellow Prius driver, you knew what that optical memorization device meant to me before I stepped out. Some losses can be recovered depending on the hands to which they have fallen. Apparently yours are now filled with more vodka and Moon pies…salute!

“We still have our memories,” my friend said before she pulled away from the load/unload zone at LAX. I laughed to myself as I watched her drive off, reeeally…seriously?


About travelingchair

I simply want to share, my journey with the chair.
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