He Must Be Dreaming

~ written 2/27/2006 ~

I had to be dreaming.

That’s the only way to explain it ‘cause there’s no goddamn way I was lying next to her, holding her in my arms snug and safe, her smelling the way she always does, like a bouquet of flowers, making me go stiff like a stale cadaver at the morgue, only I’m no dead man ‘cause she’s got me more alive than ever, like she’s my goddess giving me the gift of life, though all she really did in the end was give me the curse of heartache.

Only in a dream would she still be whispering in my ear:

“I want you, Lenny…”

“I need you…”

“My heart would die if I never saw you again…”

Only in reality would I not be smart enough to know that a dame like that would never stick with a loser like me.  I’m not what most would call a looker, my face always the best impression of a mug shot after a night of boozing and passing out on the couch ‘cause I had nothing better to do.  If I’m not in the streets pulling a con, grifting this and that, then I’m holed up in my low-rent studio crib drowning my sorrows in the exclusive company of friends with names the likes of Jack Daniels and Remy Martin.

— viewpoint character Lenny DeLeo.

Taken from my story “Another Dame, Another Problem” © 2006 Brandon L. Rucker.


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