There were fireworks in the sky this time

This morning I stood in the shower for longer than usual, contemplating whether or not I wanted to sit down and take a showerbath. I opted not to, even though I knew it would feel wonderful. I spent most of my time scrubbing my hands in an attempt to scrub the smell of last night's cigarettes out of my fingertips, yet even now I swear the smell still lingers. I don't regret it though. The cigarette paired nicely with booze and conversation, and I had not quite enough of any of those things last night. I sat at the bar stool and let my feet dangle while I rested my elbows on the counter top, and I pondered the week ahead as I forgot about the week before. I told myself I'm going to be better. I'm going to have a little fun. And I realized that my company saw I was lost in my thoughts so I forced myself to snap back to the reality I desperately sought to escape. No dice this time.

I'm going to teach myself to talk again as soon as my coworker stops slurping soup every day at noon. One of these days I will sit down and talk for hours and at the end of the time I might even feel like life is good. One of these days I'll write a song again just like one of these days I'll start working on my garden. No brussels sprouts for me, thanks. I'd much rather plant dill.

This fourth of July I might play Edward 40 Hands and go watch fireworks down by the railroad tracks. I could wander to the nearest hotdog stand and request a bowl of soup, and wait anxiously as they check the menu and tell me it's impossible. Nothing is impossible, I'll tell them as I run towards the stoplight. The ice cream man will be my saving grace as he hands me a Sonic the Hedgehog ice cream with those bubblegum eyes. Oh yeah, those bubblegum eyes. 

Funny enough the dollar store was all sold out of bubbles, so I bought sprees instead. Wouldn't it be just my luck to open the container to find it's filled with those disgusting yellow candies. 

Fuck.