The Nurse and I… the NURSE.  My topic.  My book.  I am here still at RC writing about her and us like an addict.  Why didn’t I see this before?

Ordered a beer.  I need it.  Kerouac but not, Plath but YES.  I AM I AM—

Hear her voice, looking at any pic I can find.  Of her, us at Bodega or when we went to Disneyland.  Anything I can find.  As long as she’s in it… OF COURSE!  The pic I posted this morning, of her and I doing my known pose of legs crossed waiting for coffee.

Our coffee dates, like our anchor, our sanity, and established consistency of character.

I need to write about and from us, and the kids.  That is IT.  The realization that some would hope for but the Universe today tells me, reminds me, “Shut the fuck up and stop complaining and pay more attention to what already is, to what you have.  Idiot.”

Understood, I say.  Paying for the Lagunitas I tell her, Jolie who’s been here since I was in college that I’m on a roll and I have to get back to my laptop.  “Would you mind bringing it over?  Sorry, I have to keep going…”

“That’s my job!”, she says.  And here I am.  Looking at the time.  OH FUCK.  Let’s check the ETA.  I’m still good.

If I left now I’d be there before 15:00.

Still no response from my beloved, sweet, perfect Nurse.  She’s busy.  Told me earlier that she’s running, a term I think Nurses use when the patient load is prominent, something that’s pronounced.

So proud of her, and to be with her.  Her story… don’t want to write anything yet.  But she is THE Story I need to study.  Seriously can’t stop typing.

Sip… guy walks by with bussing cart.  Never did wait tables in college. Maybe I should have.  Still have the barista images and writing fantasy…. Maybe I should try it.