Vignette the Third

I ask for a cigarette and you look at me, stunned. I ask again, and I can see that you need an explanation. I need to pray. You give me one.

Into the cold, wind-ridden night we forge. You light yours and I borrow your lighter. Fuck my wings and this wind.

I lean on the porch railing, tuning out my drunkeness, the laughter, the questions directed at me. I pray.

Dearest angels and guides, please help me. Please. Help me find work that nourishes, a relationship that honors and cherishes, a passion that burns, and a new kitten. I really want another kitten. And another drink.

Drunkeness always wins.


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