Part 12: Cindy Called.
There wasn’t any air conditioning, but there were Jalousie windows throughout.
Between the concrete construction and the Jalousie windows, the house was always comfortable.
We rented the house completely furnished down to the sheets and silverware.
There was even a two-slice toaster left on the kitchen counter.
The formal living room was in the front of the house, next to the front bedroom.
The living room flowed into the dining room, which was at the back of the house.
It had an oval-shaped wood table and matching chairs under a cheap chandelier with a rattan shade.
A small console TV was pushed up against it.
A brand-new washer and dryer were in the back of the garage.
At night, we could hear it gently swaying in the breeze.
Moose took the front bedroom, and I took the back… That’s when I started writing poetry that was heavily influenced by them.
I was internalizing everything, and writing about it helped me maintain some sense of sanity.
I taped my finished poetry to the wall above my bureau so I could read it whenever I wanted.
Sure, the probability of having sex with them was always looming, but at what cost?
Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…
