A young man lies on his floor. A feeling of panic has crept up on him over the last few weeks. Sometimes when talking to someone, he gets the distinct sensation that the words are just coming out, that his soul is elsewhere, observing this as bizarre theater, silently waiting for the young man to faint, to fall over, to start speaking gibberish. Sometimes the soul will get into the young man and make him lie there in the dark, staring towards the lights of the city through the window. Sometimes he sleeps, many times he does not.

The music is always on, you know. It comes through the speakers and grabs the young man’s attention. He walks around all day with these songs in his head. Sometimes when he walks the sidewalk after dark, he finds himself singing these songs out loud. He finds a song has erupted into the audible by the wary looks his neighbors give him as they pass him.

This morning, I walked from the bus stop towards the office building. The big glass cube, as my friend calls it. A dainty, young redhead that I always see in the cafeteria confidently walked in front of me. A vision in black. Black scarf, black fake fur coat, black skirt, black nylons, black shoes. I walked behind her, waiting for her to slip on the ice. I was ready to catch her in my arms and comfort her with some wise words in my low, steady voice.

The walk to work is the only time I’m in the daylight all day long.

The voice comes to me while I’m on the floor, telling me it’s time to go. We look for our coat and shoes and find some quarters for the bus. We walk in darkness and in cold to the bus stop, where we watch our breath and promise ourselves victory drinks upon our arrival downtown.

I walk into the nightclub with my head up and eyes focused forward. Through the darkness I navigate through the couples, the groups of friends, the loners. At the bar, I smile at the bartender and order my drink and smile as I hand over my tip. Tip your bartenders, tip your friends. He knocks on the bar in acknowledgment and smiles back, locking his eyes on mine for a brief moment. My only contact of the evening, I realize as I head towards the stage.

- Neologisms #4, 1997

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