One
Some days she loves me.
Some days she hates me.
And some days she can't make up her mind.
I don't blame her,
I understand.
Nobody is perfect.
Least of all me.
So I get up.
Get dressed.
Shirt and tie.
Aftershave.
Paracetamol.
I go to work.
The dealership on the corner.
Clock in.
Clock out.
"I'm buying."
"I'm not buying."
"Does this come with side cameras?"
You like the car?
You buy the car.
I won't rip you off.
Well, you know, we’ve all got to make a living.
In the evening,
I go to the pub.
I drink.
Just enough.
When I come home,
we either sit down to dinner,
like the old days.
Or the house is dark.
She's sleeping.
So I drink.
Lights out.
I don't know what to do.
So I just do.
Two
Some nights,
I drive.
Down into the city.
Past the crowds.
I stop at the cinema,
and watch a film.
No superheroes,
just life.
I drive home.
There's a note,
she is staying at her sister's.
She loves me.
I love her too.
Three
We’re not selling enough cars.
Customers aren't spending,
it's the economy.
The dealership in town is doing well.
I’m called to the office.
I'm selling okay, but I look rough.
Tired.
Crumpled.
Last warning.
I drive home.
She's gone.
She's taken her stuff.
Gone.
I just sit.
On the stairs.
I'm not sure how long.
Put on the TV,
and flick through the channels.
Switch it off.
Front step.
6 years of mortgage payments.
I don't see myself in the pictures from the day we moved in.
Different person,
different life.
So I drive,
to the shore.
But when I get there,
all there is
is sea.
I sit by the water,
an old tree washed ashore.
The wind stirring up a sandstorm.
A dog rushes by,
chasing a ball.
Stupid fucking dog.
He brings it to me.
What?
What do you want?
Big tongue hanging out.
He barks.
I throw it
and he runs off.
Splashing in the water.
He brings it back,
Jumps up at me.
Oh fucks sake.
I throw the ball again,
and a woman rushes over.
"Oh I'm sorry"
She's down the beach after him.
I sit there.
Watch the sun go down.
I drive home.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
