Made the rounds today.

Alas I knew this would come. The normal has arrived. I thought it might come blasting an horn in a purple bus or something a little more flamboyant. But not this time. It drove up its way, calmly and coolly in a black and white 1974 Dodge Monaco. Go figure. Slipped by my radar, instead of tearing and power sliding into my drive way.

The normal sway for this situation is no longer there. No pitch and roll to the vessel, the anticipated storm nothing more than a whimper. The normal fits of revolt are vacant, the weather man was wrong this time. This lack of storm is what is bewildering me. A perpetuating cloud of apathy is now centered squarely upon my head. Not malignant, or malevolent, but none the less, all I can see. Stretched across my cloudless sky masking all with an indifferent grey.

My crazed motivation of my first and second days of arrival have since perished. Maybe those days belonged to another. A dream I had where I ran things at my pace. This place is covered in rust and decay, where turns of the day reveal things I would rather forget.



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