Art of the Escape

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Column B — Lyft Rides — San Diego Airport. Salad was waiting. I could see he was watching a moving on his laptop. He got out, he was wearing house slippers. Inside the hybrid, the heat was cranked. Me: yeah, this is a bit of a longer drive. Him: where are you from? Are you…
Jesse
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Neither too hot or cold. The days now are free from the noise of the air conditioner or heater running. The doors are open, the air moves through the…
Jesse
I call up my friend. Me: what are you doing Tuesday night? Him: not sure, why? Me: I have reservations at that place that’s hard to get a reservation…
Jesse
Cold today. The dog is curled into a ball, a black hole, on the sofa all day. The wind is cutting down from the slopes. The sun passes behind luxurious…
Jesse
Do you ever take mushrooms, I asked. Her: like the psychedelic kind? Yeah. The day had worn on into a dusty sunset. Warm for this time of year…
Jesse
The car has a squeaky fan. The one that blows hot air into the cabin, or cold air — just air. It’s slight, the sound, but it’s there. I can hear it. I…
Jesse
Her: how have you been since our last session? Me: alive. Her: that’s good. I can see that. Me: not sure. Uneasy. But also, quiet. Calm. I keep writing…
Jesse
The table had a half finished puzzle on it I had to push to the side so I had space to write. To think. The books that were piled on the chairs, were…
Jesse
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