Rising Sun

Dizzy sunlight sparks internal fuzz apart. I sit here close to the end of a bank balance, crest of a wave breaking takin' out the sun in a huge tidal wave of creation. Corner Swan st an Burnely in a pub, Rising Sun for $10 parma pot meal deal. Sneakin' a peek at a girl in a stripe shirt. The panties on her arse are hangin out the back of her jeans. Cool air blows the door open an smoke plumes in light streamin' from the yawnin' sun. There's a number six on my pot an pool balls rummble on a table. "Click clop..." Plastic one hit wonder pop tells me, "if you want me/if you want me/if you love me" then catch a groove on the plastic electronic drum pattern.
I stare at the jersy girl carryin' pots for her an her boyfrien'. I sit here alone eatin' parma an pot wonderin' how did I become frien' s with the girl's instead of bein' with 'em? I'm called up as the shoulder to cry on, an it wears me thin. Not that I mind! I love them an' hate, hate to see 'em hurt.
It's jus when I need them they are never there.
But they are in ways, when they need me I need them, an' even though I spend the time listenin' to their pains, they are there listinin' to mine. Yeah, in that metaphysical bullshit sense. At least I know they need me.
Everything happens for a reason. I'll smile in the crux of illogical treason.
So now I have to decide whether I stay for another pot. An as I get closer to the end of the pot, an the end of a bank balance, I decide I will survive. All I have to do is stick it out till the 18th this Satday, then I'll go home fer christmas, an' the world I can, an' it can forget about me fer a while.
I sit here writing in the pub feeling like Hemmingway penning my phony masterpiece. I bought the second pot an' scratch another rollie from the sparse packet under my elbow. Will something happen to this pretend Hemmingway?
The tvee goes snow, the muzak stops, shrouded in silence the crowd gasps.
There is a car accident in the intersection out front. The wail of an emergency crew.
Then everything snaps back to utterly random reality, an yes, my phone doesn't ring. Even the girl showing her panties has pulled her shirt down. At least AC/DC plays...