30 days grace

Americans have lost their way.

I am one such American.
I push, I shove, I consume wholeheartedly
with no less fervor than the rest,
sucking the earthly resources into my rapacious viscera
with all the elan of a Turk with a hookah.

Still.
I seek home. A home. The home.
Not sure what that home is. I feel guilty thinking about it. Don’t think I deserve such a home. I am profane.
Physical home. I’m lucky to have that. At least for now.
30 days grace.
What will befall me? Money always tight. Hope I can keep it. Rent due.
It gets paid from my dancing monkey performance at the five and dime law
firm downtown down by the courthouse, just a short walk away.
30 days grace,
sometimes 31 depending on the month.

What is home?

Spiritual home.
No clue what the spirit is.

I like style.
No.
I lack style.
I only pretend, follow your style.
Lead the way oh trendmaster.
Tell me what to wear this year. I haven’t a clue.
Just don’t wanna be laughed at by the cool kids.
No.
Not this year, please, no. Stop them.
Just a pig.
Profane.
There is dirt.
Surrounded by dirt.
Dust.
Dirt and Earth are not the same.
Hurry back to work.
Dance some more.

Rent due again.

Write the check again.

30 days grace.

Fallen from grace I never knew.

Push you away. You stand too close.

Come in. Close the door. Don’t come too close. Fort. Da. Come closer. No.
Get away. Lost myself. Where am I? Lost in you.
Why can’t I keep my own identity? Where is the compromise? Where is the zone?
Is there no me to lose. Selfless. Selfless? Selfless!
You need a self to have an ego. They say egolessness is the way to go.
Don’t you need a self in order to lose the ego?

Come back.
Don’t leave.
Don’t leave me again.
30 days grace.
Please.
I can work this out.
We can work this out.
Please listen.
Thank you.
Goodnight.

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