5/24/2023 0 Comments Richard sikenA man walks into a bar, you this time, and says: Walk a mile in my shoes. A man walks into a bar, you this time, and says: Make it a double. Your co-workers ask if everything’s okay and you tell them you’re just tired. You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Boots continue to fall to the floor in the apartment above you. You swallow a bottle of sleeping pills but they don’t work. You take him home, and you make him a cheese sandwich, and you try to get his shoes off, but he kicks you and he keeps kicking you. A man walks into a bar and says: Take my wife–please. You hear the first boot hit the floor and you’re looking up, you’re waiting because you thought it would follow, you thought there would be some logic, perhaps, something to pull it all together but here we are in the weeds again, here we are in the bowels of the thing: your world doesn’t make sense. And you can hear the man in the apartment above you taking off his shoes. You’re on your back in your undershirt, a broken man on an ugly bedspread, staring at the water stains on the ceiling. You take her out into the rain and you fall in love with her and she leaves you and you’re desolate.
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