January

 

Hollywood at night is either really sad or beautiful. The lights. The sleepers on the ground. Girls crying. Attractions. Guitars. Stars. Pink dresses. Boots. Hats. Food and drink. Sometimes I drink too much and take a cab home. I will be home soon in bed. I will wake up in six hours. I’ll be home in nine minutes. I’m tired and drunk. My brain feels like fog. I want fried potatoes. I want food and drink. I saw so many old friends tonight. He gets on the freeway. This is where I lose service when I talk to my mother. Call me back she says. I can’t hear you well she says. Then the line goes. I pop my ears in the mountains. A ritual. Everyone I know is in love. I hear them talk about how the love will never end. They open their mouths wide like the queen of hearts. Their eyes become large and I believe them. I believe them because I am them. We share a human heart. We are holding onto bottles. We are holding on so tight.