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WHAT A STRETCH by Miles Ciletti
 

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  • Winter
    was coming on,
    which in LA usually means
    wearing something more
    than just a t-shirt
    in the chill of an evening breeze.
    and just like
    the previous two winters,
    I was on the run
    once again.
    but not
    from breaking any laws,
    unless of course
    you might consider my birth
    into this world
    as breaking
    some law of Nature.

    at
    least
    that's my guess
    as to the argument
    she'd use,
    she being the person
    I was running from.
    just another Hollywood romance
    born dead in the water,
    both of us keeping
    any remnant of fire alive
    for the past six months
    out of guilt
    through denial.
    we were hoping against hope
    just a little too much
    I thought,
    until my end broke apart,
    finally blowing reality
    into a million pieces,
    but
    falling back to earth
    a day too late.
    but she --
    she wanted to keep the mess alive
    and keep it going...
    but
    not me!

    so
    here I was
    with a car full
    of my past life
    while looking at all points
    on the compass
    for the next closet
    to rehang it all again.
    I needed a quick fix,
    another place --
    today,
    this minute!
    if but only to savor the tragedy alone,
    hopefully over a tv dinner
    and
    then deal
    with all the emptiness
    and aftermath
    later,
    and maybe even the laundry
    sometime tomorrow.

    an
    ad in the paper
    suggested a small single for rent
    somewhere in the foothills
    of Laurel Canyon.
    a voice on the phone
    gave me directions.

    the
    manager
    smiled a toothless grin
    buried beneath
    a long scraggly mustache
    while introducing himself to me.
    he was a friendly type,
    talkative
    animated
    somewhat of a live wire
    on wet ground!
    grabbing his keys,
    he led me over to the rental
    while saying,
    "This place
    has some history.
    Clark Gable once lived here,
    and so did Marilyn Monroe,
    although
    to my knowledge,
    I don't think they actually lived here
    together!"

    a simple
    twist of a key
    and the door opens to the apartment.
    it's small.
    it's depressing.
    and
    it's perfect!
    simply because I can afford it
    and I need a place
    right away.

    but
    Clark Gable
    and
    Marilyn Monroe?

    now
    that's a stretch!


    ~~~~~~~~

    (c)2014 Miles Ciletti
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