Tourist

I’ve got a weight in my heart that shots for a pound won’t fix. 

I walk across the street, 

Come across some flattened cardboard boxes and a fuzzy black blanket. 

A dog lies alone in the center, 

Legs trembling, eyed shut closed like it doesn’t want to believe in this world. 

Their guardian comes by, Terry’s his name. The dirt under his fingernails tells me life hasn’t been kind, so I share a little of my own kindness. I bid him goodnight, tell him my pockets are empty cause they truly are, and walk along. 

Thirty steps down the road, boys and girls in hundred pound suits are slouched over, catching their breath against the wide walk. Drunk on a Wednesday because they’re bored, and their friends are doing the same. Because they’re tourists for the next few weeks, and won’t have to remember any of this. (but am I any different?) 

“When in Rome, act like the Romans.”

Get thoughtless and plastered. 

Feed the coifers of the barkeeps sending the stragglers to the streets rather than to get help. 

Use your money to impress shallow people in ways your personality doesn’t want to go. 

I don’t want to live like a Roman anymore. 

“I blew 25 pounds today. I try not to think about it, because it’ll get me sad.”

Itll get everyone sad, tourism’s gonna do that to you. 

I don’t want to act like a tourist tonight. I go back to my room, grab a chocolate muffin and a box of rice crispies, and walk back.

Up on the shelf is a big bottle that used to hold booze, I fill it with water from the shower and take it along. 

I know it’ll make him look like a drunk, and I know that won’t help. I peel off the labels with my newly formed fingernails(I just stopped biting them), and take everything with me out the door. 

“The muffin’s for you, eat it slow and be an example. The cereal’s for your pup. Make sure to stick by that, the chocolate muffin would hurt him bad no matter how hungry he might be. Share that jug with everyone who needs it.”

Theres a reason I got more than I needed in the dining hall, and it’s for times like this. I glwalk home with a peace I haven’t experienced after a night out here. Not from a pickup line gone right. Not from a drink too many. 
Before I go to bed, I walk across the side of the library. Through one of the ever-lit windows, I see my missing water bottle clear as day staring back at me through the window. “Well, I’ll be damned. Synchronicity at its finest is right in front of me.”

And then, I go to bed. I fall asleep with the peace that I didn’t live like a tourist tonight. 

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