wisefool

The fam fell fast asleep. . .maybe,
so I took my joyride.

Creaking slowly on my pink D'Bo bike
Hoodie up; pockets stuffed with paraphernalia.
My suburbian neighbors stare with slim eyes as I pedal by and wave.
Hot breath escapes like exhaust into the cold night air;
with pure intent I'm now the late twenty somethings juvenile
rollin a jainty behind the shed at the neighborhood Latter Day's Saints asylum.

Off to a good start. . .I haven't lost my touch. . .
Until every noise sounds like someone responsible and authoritative
sneaking up to grab my ear and yank my arm.

Jays done, creaking back home. . . Ill take the scenic route. . .
Strong wind against me must be an omen, I'll turn around and head straight home, plus it's cold as hell.
Pickin up speed and the sheriff rolls by. He smells me I'm sure of it, I'm a 28 y/o adolescent pedaling with fury til I reach my back yard.

What if they've been spying on me? What if my dealer is undercover? (If he isn't then I'll suggest it to him as a good career move) . . . Too many cop neighbors, maybe they smelled the smoke I blew out of the attic window those few times. Maybe they've told my employer, maybe everyone can already tell. Maybe I shouldn't care, yet. . . So much to lose.

Home. Finally. Too blazed, encroaching the land of murphys law and the paranoid mind. I can't let my family hear me, put the bike in the backyard, loudly and clumsily, wake every dog in a 2 mile radius. Get inside, shower at 11pm? brush teeth and mouthwash. Wash clothes. Go the extra mile, creep around the house in the dark, stub toes and drop keys.

Crazy Paranoia, large trucks grumbling outside, K9s and house warrants. Brisk apologies and foregiveness pleads? Staunch rebellion and civil rights ploy? flush it all and never again?
Sleep is my only option otherwise I'll go mad. Tachycardia and sweat, schismed thoughts and palpitations, high gone to waste on suburban fear.

3 melatonins, I'll be sober in the AM.

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.