Today I heard the wailing of ambulance sirens in the shower. I rushed washing myself and shivered into clothes, sped to Midas to have my car inspected only to discover my insurance card expired six months prior.
I’m 32—a prime but informative existence. Mortality upgraded from acquaintanceship to booty calls. She too hits me up now whenever she wants—sundown, sunrise. (Why a she? Because I’m childless.)
Last week I awoke, commenced the routine of brushing my teeth only to find in my grip my razor.
There’s still plenty of time to giggle about these things. (A frightening word, giggle.)
Alex Z. Salinas lives in San Antonio, Texas. He is the author of two full-length poetry collections, WARBLES and DREAMT, or The Lingering Phantoms of Equinox, both from Hekate Publishing. His poems, short fiction and op-eds have appeared in various print and electronic publications. He holds an M.A. in English Literature and Language from St. Mary’s University.
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