rainIn the Meantime

by Travis Roberts

Fuck a woman from Florida on her lunch break.
Drink Americanos on wooden tables in foreign countries.
Listen to Dave Brubeck via Internet radio.
Read Bukowski.
Don’t mention it to anyone.
Visit Buddhist temples and take pictures of trash and tree limbs and children laughing, holding tight.
Rent a motorbike.
Ride it slow.
Drink water with whiskey.
Pay two-fifty for Budweiser in a can.
Celebrate the fourth of July on a Thai porch with kids wearing modish tank tops.
Piss on the front lawn.
Use small words, tiny words, no words.
Drink Thai beer in a bottle for one dollar.
Dream about waking up at home.
Wake up here instead.
Confused.
Relieved.
Horny.
Kiss a shoulder blade from Lauderdale.
Fry eggs as she curls her lashes.
Follow customs.
Practice manners.
Recall your age with an ironic t-shirt and reference to the gym.
Eat three scoops of ice cream with your deluxe cheeseburger.
Wash it down with Coke for fifty cents.
Read Alice Munro.
Preach to anyone in earshot.
Note an eighty percent chance of rain at four p.m.
Feign surprise and goodwill when your friends publish stories in colorful literary journals.
Drink gin whatever the cost.
Store your comb and toothbrush in a backpack.
Alternate between cotton tank tops and t-shirts with breast pockets.
Wear the same pants daily.
Salute.
Wai.
Make light.
Buy your toilet paper and muffins at 7-11.
Take pictures of feral dogs with low-hanging balls and scabs behind their ears.
Consider yourself an artist.
Consider an MFA in California.
Consider the exchange rate.
Say no when asked.
Say please when the woman from Florida unzips your pants.
Say sorry when it’s finished.
Read Vonnegut.
Forget the MFA.
Plan to write.
To save.
Plan a weekend.
Pay the fee.
Lie inside instead.
The rain is on time.

#

Travis Roberts studied creative writing and is a victim of arm-pimple karma. He’s about to stand up.
%d bloggers like this: