The Dope Man Cometh

I am the couch cover. The constant seam and hole protector, and there is no more work to do. R is going to dinner with his uncle, and there is no work to do. No cocaine yet so I'm keeping myself busy until the dude hits him back. He is holding his phone, lower lip slack, staring at the screen--I'm never sure what that means. He calls him, but he doesn't pick up, so immediately begins texting him. For a moment, he is texting, stops to look himself in the mirror with a raised lip like Sid Vicious, until he is on the phone again--my mood momentarily lifts, as I think he is calling the dude back because he has texted, but his uncle it's just his uncle. I  was hopeful it was all about dope, but it was just about them meeting up on the subway--shitty imagination.

My body woke up pulsing, the summer sun radiated in, and I felt content. Content because I knew we would get more coke.

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I feel asleep on the sofa. The A/C rattled in the window, and the bunny slept in his cardboard castle that R had built for him. Sleepy, so sleepy, my stomach aching from its first real meal in days, as I rolled over I noticed my phone slowly blinking. Fuck. I check it, and the dude should've been here 15 minutes ago. I fear
that, although 5 feet from the door, I have missed his arrival, and will not see him for another 6 hours and it'll be my fucking fault for sleeping.

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He arrives a few hours later, we find out that he had fallen asleep too--summer naps for everyone, even my bunny buddy. I do half a line as R arrives, quick to shove the other half up my nose. UP up up and away. R follows suit, then quickly describes the 25 foot manual he did in the subway on the way back--woah bro woah righteousssssssssssssssssssssss (haha).

Now we're on the sofa, feeling Right.

God I love the summer.

Time to go celebrate tonight.
-Lucy