Sunday

Winter came on slow. Then it was here. The colors were gone replaced by the gray drone sky and the ceaseless frozen draw of the lake. The bills kept piling on and the birds moved to the far building escaping the pigeon guards. I was with those bastards, felt the pins slowly sticking up through the floor, but there was nowhere to go so I piled on more blankets and looked for signs. They came. The signs agitated me so I took Z’s car for a spin to get away for a spell. I wasn’t even out of the lot when some kids threw a bunch of snowballs at the car as I sat for the light to turn. These balls had rocks in ‘em though. Usually I’d support the disruption but the rocks pissed me off so I slammed it into park, got out and gave chase. The kids didn’t budge and I knew it was trouble but I approached anyway like a mad bear. I was met with a dull thud to the clavicle. When I came to, my left arm was limp, the car in idle and the kids gone. Some bear. The blow somehow broke the skin but left the clavicle intact. It wouldn’t have made a difference anyway since the insurance ran out a few months back. I got back in the car and drove with my good arm. I let the skin bleed and scab to the T, fuck it. I drove south in search of wild turkey and dreamed of California, a gun, and a new perspective.