The Potomac — Poetry and Politics - Jonathan Stein
Winter 2009 - THE POTOMAC

   Jonathan Stein

The buzz in her head would not quit. She wished it to, even if she had to take a pill to sleep, even if she had to imbibe her scotch, even if she had to travel the three hours to their country house outside Mexico City. What was so bad about pills, and scotch and country houses?

This guy she married, was he going to let up? So rigid, so ready to find her at fault, so, oh she didn’t know. So. Then, he’d beam a light from that other side. Loved fun, warm touch. He used to take her on the floor of the apartment, they had come home drunk and couldn’t wait for, or couldn’t walk to?, the bed. Now. Well, now.

Sometimes Loretta thought Jeff made the buzz, sometimes she thought he silenced it. It was as simple as that.


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