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Please Don’t Let My Spirit Down

Please don’t let my spirit down, I’m waiting on the call
You sent me away from myself, I’m not fooling anyone
– lyrics from ThisWay

I am beside myself. An older creative rich guy with a bad slouch and privacy screen on his iPhone is jamming out in his own spiritual bliss, while his young wife, diamond of distinction on her finger, taps her phone and listens to a different playlist.

{soundtrack.api.superfreak.rick.james}

“You left the jam?” He says, looking up from his reverie.

“Just playing my workout playlist.”

They are both drinking iced coffees. Iced! And the boobs are remarkable as is the catsuit. They are a branding experience. Lululemon, Hoka, Solomon, Adidas. All curated. And they have nothing to talk about. Zoning out in Whole Foods with your lover. Wife. Girlfriend. Hmm. I don’t think the rich older guy with the hottly-vacant athletic arm candy is working out for him. Wouldn’t work for me at all. He looks lonely or bored.

Anticipating his next business trip. Sure the sex is amazing. The conversation. Well, as long as we don’t talk we don’t fight. Who puts a privacy screen on their phone? Someone browsing their Grindr account and Fetlife at the same time having coffee and pastries with your wife. Cold coffee. Cold vibe. No comfort is worth this isolation. They cannot hear the soundtracks of their own minds. Or if they do, they need a quit hit of something or a different playlist to alter their moods. Don’t get to close to the edge of the sad thoughts. The longing. The “what the fuck am I doing in this life?” moments.

She just exchanged a glance at me. The first, I note. I vanished back into the furniture. Salt and peper bearded guy typing on his laptop. “I wonder what he’s writing about?”

“You.”

“Um. What?” She looks at me again. I am not letting on and look past her to the plant-based burger bar.

“I’m writing about you. Can you feel it?”

A smile comes across her face. Like she’s responding to a text from someone. Not her husband, lost in some media consumption in his bubble of bliss. He looks up and notices her smiling at the texts. LOL. Wait until he catches her smiling at me, sitting right next to him. A bit older, perhaps, a doppleganger nonetheless.

“What is this?”

“Don’t panic. Just a soothing voice. No worries.”

Her gaze shifts to the void. A family is passing by outside in the parking lot. She is texting someone. He continues watching like a zombie. They have almost finished their iced coffees. Did she drink iced coffees before him? She stares now. Calmer. The voices have stopped.

A thread has attached, loosely, micro-nonalignment.* I clip it with my pocket knife. No tethers on this one, not today. Not without permission. They will be gone back into their own void of spooky hollow lives. Okay, I get the message.

This is not the way.

* micro-nonalignment
*she will never let your spirit down, once you get her off the street – rick james


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