I woke up at about 230am. Time to run to the gas station for coffee and frozen burrito. As I deftly navigate the two flights of stairs which make up for my apartment buildings lack of an elevator I turn onto West Burnside Street and cross 18th as I ambidextrously tap out a cigarette and light it up. The automatic reflex action of flickin the bic makes it all look like one swift motion when in fact it’s a lifetime of practice.
Was the last cigarette in the pack. I crush the cigarette pack in my bare hand and spy ahead of me about 10 feet a public garbage receptacle. I post up on it, lean back for a fade away jumper and as the crushed cigarette pack arcs through the air like a perfectly thrown brick and hits the rim of the garbage can to take the good bounce in, the Universe cheers…
And for the one moment all alone at 230 in the morning on Burnside St. with no one around to witness my greatness the Universe (my heart, my soul) cheers for me and confirms my continued existence…
