I leave your apartment with a great hangover. Walk down the hall to find the elevator ‘out of order’. Head spinning, I find the stairs. Fourth floor. You live on the forth fucking floor? Dear god, kill me now. I stumble, bounce and rebound down 48 death kissed stairs. Right out into atomic sunshine. I cringe like a vampire at the light. I fight with my coat until I find my sunglasses. So much better. Now, just get me two blocks to my car. Then all will be better. I’ll drive home in this half drunken state, then collapse in my own bed and sleep this off. The walk is nothing short of hell. Everything is too loud. Cars move much too fast. Why is everybody yelling? Why is there construction everywhere? Finally, the car’s in sight. Twenty steps and I’m there. Ten. Five. Here at last. That’s when I realize I left my keys in your cheap fucking fourth floor apartment.
© Dicky J Loweman 2014