Blue Sorbet

I think she did call. I flip open my cell and check the call list. Sure enough, received call at two-fifteen, early bird time. So we had spoken. She had said those things. I had failed her in those ways. I ran away because I felt trapped.

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Well, of course.”

“What, you loved me too much, so you had to move? Is placing two thousand miles between the one you love really love? You have hurt me, wounded me. But I have seen all this before. It always happens like this. Gemini’s can never make lasting friendships, anyway. It is all destined for misery in the end.”

But I am sorry. I have nothing to say and my silence is took to be some sort of judgment.
She accuses me of wanting her to feel this way. She says I am punishing her, a physical distancing on my part because of an emotional distancing on hers. But it is not like that. It never was. I mean, it is, but it is much more complicated than a simple summation of base evidence.

I need to smoke something. Watch some television, check email, box scores of basketball games.

I have to get my mind off her. Off of what I have potentially done. Digging around the paperclip, pencil and stationary drawer of my desk, I find a small glass jar of indica. It is really stony shit, guaranteed to get me floating through reflections wearing blinders and inflatable arm bands.

I spin around on the desk chair and flick the television remote. I like to watch nature shows with the sound off, some melancholy crooner melting violins in the background, and I sit puffing on a freshly rolled joint.