I’m on hold with transport adapté (para transit). It wasn’t that far I thought, going to IGA to buy kale and maybe a can of chick peas. I got halfway down the block, dropped my empty cloth bag, sat on the window ledge of a weird consignment store, looked at the moon, turned around, and went home. Too far. I’m going to have to find some mysterious reserves in my kitchen. And call TA for my appointment tomorrow that I was just going to take the bus to.

Its ok though, I have the ocean in my mind’s eye, that peaceful force that comes and goes and comes and goes no matter what the silly humans are doing. I’m going to get a scooter here and my life will completely change. I’m going to get one tomorrow. Forever. And drive wherever the fuuuuck I want. Forever.

And then I’ll say…
I’ll take care of you arthritis, I’ll love you with sugar instead of trying to shrivel you up with salt like slugs on a yuppy’s patio. I’ll love you til you’re no longer insecure and don’t feel the need to make your presence known. I’ll love you and keep you warm and oiled like a motor, not cut you out like some unwanted blemish on a skin-fascist’s face. I’ll love you til you get bored of me and move on. We’ll say goodbye one day, arthritis, until then I’ll be here, booking rides and eating freezer burned vegetables and old tofu, looking up scooters on my phone.

With the ocean in my mind’s eye.


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