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An Uneasy Sleep

The small Chevy takes the curve and slowly stops near the McDonald's Drive-Thru microphone, rolling past it a foot and a half. Already the car behind us is on our bumper. My friend, who is driving, has a slight speech impediment, and usually cannot be clearly understood in her orders the first time. After she makes her order, stumbling over the sweet tea, I yell my order across her from the passenger seat. It is her treat. I get an extra McDouble.

We park in the lot to eat after receiving our food and I start my talk of poetry class.

I've written my first sonnet, an extra credit assignment, and read it to her. She says she likes it. For a moment I am happy... and fed.

But then I realize that I will never be famous or great, that only today did I learn what sprung rhythm was, and that in Creative Writing class my poem was not voted as a top three pick of the week.

"I need to go home", I say abruptly. My friend starts the Chevy and drives me home. I take my medicine and put on old clothes. Lying on the bed, I fall into a nap, hating Gerard Manley Hopkins.

Story by:

Sander Blome

sanderblome@gmail.com

submitted at 5:20pm

29 January 2011

Sander Blome's web:

http://sander-blome.blogspot.com