I remember traveling along in a GreyHound bus going God only remembers where. A young, attractive pre-med student was sitting next to me. She was latin. We shot the shit most of the way. During one of the stops I remembered this moon like landscape in black and grey, a gas station in the middle of the desert. We’d stopped to stretch our legs.
“You’re going to have alzhimers when you get older,” she said out of nowhere. “What?” I asked. I’ve been studying this recently and you show all the traits of someone who’s going to have this when they grow old. “What are the traits,” I asked. Like it was some well guarded secret she refused to tell me. Maybe she was just being kind. I forget.
This morning I stepping out of the shower I reached for the towel. I feel that it’s damp and I wondered, I can’t remember … if I’d already taken a shower?
We have a new restaurant next door who seems to take pest control seriously because all into the night I could hear a small animal throwing its little body against what sounded like cheap plastic. At first I wasn’t sure what the hell I was hearing but then I realized what it was, those big plastic rat traps you see tucked away under bushes and next to building. I felt like that guy from that movie “No Canadian Country for Old Men.” I wanted to get up to get what ever was struggling in that box it’s last drink of water but I know nothing good would come of it.
I woke up and stayed up and can’t remember if I’d showered once or twice.