Читать книгу Treasure of the Mind - J. Michaels - Страница 9

Man, this rush hour traffic never lets up. The windows are down and the music is popping but I’m nervous as hell about facing all those people at work. I better get over, my exit’s coming up. Damn, I missed it. I guess I’ll just keep going. Let’s check the console. If I remember right, Jimmy handed me a joint after the poker game. Where did I put it? Here it is, a big fat ugly one! You would think that a guy that’s been smoking pot as long as Jimmy has would have learned to roll a good joint by now. What the hell am I doing? Its 8:15 on a Monday morning and I’m cruising past work and lighting up a joint; me, mister reliable, mister taking care of business. So what, it’s only a job and they’ll cut me some slack. After all, my son just died and I’ve lost a lot more than an occupation. No work today, time get away.

It’s better now. The weed has my mind soothed and the wind in my face sure feels good. You know, right now I don’t really care what happens. I could even drive right into a tree and except for the possibility of coming out crippled instead of dead, the thought of it doesn’t even scare me. Like Janis Joplin said, “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose.” Hey, pull yourself out of this morbid crap. You’ve got a lot to live for; a great home, a loving wife and family, and a high-paying job. You’re just short one son, your only son.

I need to do something before I turn into an addict or a drunk or a pile of maimed flesh on the side of the road. Who can understand this kind of loss; loss of a son and loss of a life that used to mean something to me? The guys are great but most of them have the same kind of life I do and it still matters to them. Who do I know that just doesn’t care about it, someone who knows something I don’t about getting some meaning out of life? Wait a minute, what about my old buddy Wayne? He taught me meditation and he got me through that rough patch with Gracie a few years back. He always seemed so peaceful and content with his life, even with that old pickup and dinky little apartment. We lost track of each other when I got to be such a big shot at work and thought I was too good to hang out with him. And, oh yeah, he had a teenage daughter who hung herself a few years ago. I need to talk to Wayne; he’ll know what to do!

Fading, comfortless, and alone

Wrapped in a meaningless life

Providing no warmth or shelter

Driving down lonely highway

Only the herb for company

People in my dour life

Mean nothing any more

Dare I flirt with death

One quick flick of the wheel

And pain is gone

The grim reaper my newfound friend

Hope’s light shines in faint glow

Insisting I remain for a better day

Perhaps an old friend can lend me

Comfort and reason to stay