TALKING REASON

ONE: January 17

"I think that was written for me," I said.

"What was?"

"'American Woman'.  The song."

"By the Guess Who?  Isn't that basically impossible?" my buddy answered.

"Yes, basicallly.  But you're forgetting that time is only a dimension, perceived or not, and both subject to our own perceptions and inevitably pulling at us.  We only understand it from our one perspective, our one vantage point, if you will."

"So... time is irrelevant?  Is that what you mean?" he asked.

"No, it's not irrelevant.  It just doesn't only follow our one linear path," I tried to explain.

"So...the song could have been written for you anyway?"

"No, probably not," I answered.  "I never met 'em."

TWO: January 25

"You need to not be such a prude."

"I'm not a prude.  What do you mean?" I asked.

"Yes, you are," he answered.  "I've only been with you eight minutes, and you've ruined my day."  He leaned back in his seat, nodding out.  "Try not to be a buzzkill."

"Okay," I said.  "Can you sit up?  We're going through the school line now.  They can see that you're dozing!"

"Freakin' A.  That's what I'm talking about."

(I've been here before.  The last time I saw you, you were fifty and looked eighty.  Another incarnation, though.  I had to drive you around then, too..)

THREE: January 26

(Where are the men in my life?  I think that there used to be some.)

FOUR: February 1

I looked warily at him as he walked to the car.  He slumped into the passenger seat. 

"I asked you not to call me if you were messed up.  Damn, call Uber," I said.

"Yeah, I'm gonna Uber.  Stop being ridiculous all of the time."

"Seriously.  If you have the nods, at least lean back in the seat!  It's so obvious when we pass people."

"Shut it," he advised.

"No.  Thanks.  I mean it."

"..So.. we're riding dirty.  I'm rying to make something cool at home, too.  There's a project."

"A project?" I asked.

"Parts is parts," he answered.  "It's all good."

"Are we riding dangerously?  Seriously?"

"Naaah, just kidding."

I could tell he wasn't kidding.  "Have you lost your freaking mind?  I have a child.  You suck."

"You suck, buzzkill.  Let me outta here," he said.

"You should be at work."

"You're one to talk," he said.

"You shouldn't be going in there nodding out."

"Again, you're one to talk," he countered.

(..I lifted these thoughts out of my bones, scraped them off of my skin.  Like clouds sitting on the mountaintops, they lit on my brain only briefly.  Tell me.)

FIVE: February 2

"Dude, you should go get in the bed if you're going to sleep.  You're sleeping standing up.  At least put down your phone.  Stop trying to text while you're asleep!"  I am venting.

He looks at his phone with one eye.  His hair is standing up. 

He says, "You need to take a long walk off a short pier.  It's almost her lunch break.  I'll get her to come get me."

"Why in the world would you ask her to do that?" I asked.  His girlfriend was at work.  Eighteen miles away, roughly.  "If you'll come on, we'll hit the sandwich shop and I'll pay the storage unit and take you back on the way to get the little one.  It's in the same direction."

"Hell no.  Screw that!  I'm asking her for a ride."

"It'd be at the same time, about," I said.

"Yeah, but she knows I don't want to ride all over the goddamn place," he reasoned.