Waiting for sunset

The days are long and so are the 24 that fill them. It's hot under a shadow and infernal at sun light.

There's a desire for cool clean water, something like the beach. It's a desire like the one we have for trouble, fights, and adrenaline.

But home, feels ever so safe and next to the cooler, the beach can wait for less sunny days…

So I fall onto the couch; with nothing to do; nothing to think about… We just hope the sun runs to bring a sweetly breezed evening, so that I can leave the prison I forged around myself. I call the ones I treat as friends, in hope for news I wait… Good news would be great, bad news would be okay but the wait and the absence of news at all is a torturous punishment. There's nothing to do, besides wait…

I try to keep sanity, by joining social sites, to feel some more company, but all I see is a mirror of despair, need, and desperation. I feel like an old man, in a retirement home, listening to the radio and swallowing pills for the bad memory, leaving with no memory at all. (I wonder if I'll be like this)

A kiss… that's what I need; a kiss on the cheek, and like the potion of Panoramix I'll be revived with the strength of a thousand men. It always feels like a good bye kiss, even the door is open to my leave has it is delivered.

And because the sun is near setting, I walk though the opened door, making the kiss justice. The world is still for a bit… a second, a minute, almost infinite, to break so calmly steadiness I plug the men at work to the radio.

"Traveling in a fried-out combie
On a hippie trail, head full of zombie
I met a strange lady, she made me nervous
She took me in and gave me breakfast
And she said,

"Do you come from a land down under?
Where women glow and men plunder?
Can't you hear, can't you hear the thunder?
You better run, you better take cover.""

Run, ran I did and found cover between friends and laughs. It resembled the last supper, shorten to four, the departure of a saint is coming, before sun set.

And the sun raise will bring disclaiming to the unity; the roster will make sure of it.

"This very night, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times."

But forgiveness it's what makes us such a great trio. The sun is setting and one of us leaves for beachy lands, leaving two.

But I'm also waiting for my sun set, for I'm leaving to deserted island, and them there will be only one; until the sun rises again for all of us…

John Scar Kramer