He repeated himself so many times that even I lost count.
And I don’t drink. Though you wouldn’t believe it if you
only had his stories to go on. It was a lovely night, though
bittersweet. He was lost by the end, and took help down the stairs,
he struggled with the seatbelt, but that was the least of the worries.
We heard about work, how he’s being replaced – so his plan is
to give even more of himself, until he’s dry like a husk, grey like a
shadow and broken like the record he kept spinning all night.
Spinning out of control, and then over and over again.
And once more – but not even for good luck. This one purely for the
nostalgia. That’s the cage where he lives. The radio played That’s Just
The Way It Is, as I dropped him down the road. “Some things will
never change….” And then Life’s What You Make It to immediately follow. “Yesterday’s faded/Nothing can change it”. Talk (talk) of just celebrating it.
You can’t escape it/shouldn’t back date it/also no escaping it. He was
getting more help as he tumbled out of the car, and up some more stairs,
eventually to bed, after one more drink, and another go at telling the best story of the night. But he won’t get the help he needs.
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