At eleven p.m. the fish tank light turns off and I snap out of it and realize that I am alone in the house. Except for the fish but they are going to bed and I never feel like going to bed. The darkness starts to bother me so I walk around turning on lights until every light is buzzing with electricity. The buzzing starts to bother me, so I go outside and climb to the top of the roof.
I walk up to the edge and I keep walking and I walk off the roof and I keep walking and I walk across the street and I sit on the hood of my car in a kind of half slouch. I watch the house.
In a few minutes it explodes and I am homeless. After the fire is put out the neighbors and firemen and paramedics form a line and come up to me one by one. They all shake my hand and congratulate me and everyone wants to give me five ten and twenty dollar bills. I smile a lot and take the money.
Everything is pretty much the same when I am homeless. In the morning, the neighbors and the birds and the sunshine try to wake me up through the windows of my car but I need to get back to the dream I am having. In the dream a police officer is driving me around and we are both happy and she is telling me that she thinks Snoop Dogg is really cool; I agree because it is true.
My cell phone alarm clock keeps going off and I let it ring and ring and ring.
Eventually I have to pee so badly that I leave the car and walk up to the charred footprint of the house. I take some time to get ready for another excellent day. I sit on the hood of my car and stare at the house for a while. All of the grass and bushes and everything else around the house are stuck on fast-forward. There are already a lot of green things coming up from inside of the basement; the humidity sticks to my skin.
I put on a clean shirt and drive to work. Eight hours later work is over and I hang the mop up in a closet. After work I will eat something from the deli. If it has enough grease, I will wake in the middle of the night. If it has no grease I will need a pop can. These can be purchased in aisle seven, next to the bottles of water. Everything I buy fits in a plastic bag and sits next to me on the drive back. Everything near the house is still stuck on fast-forward. There is already a family of squirrels living in the tree sprouting up where the couch used to be.
There is plenty of grease in the food, but I have a pop anyway. High-fructose corn syrup makes me happy for an hour. Everything is pretty much the same when you are homeless.
I sit and I stare. I have an urge to brush my teeth that will not go away.
When you are homeless you don’t ever brush your teeth. You could, but that’s not the point. Only some of us know that there is a point to being homeless. The point is a kind of slow-motion disintegration. Everything is pretty much the same when you are homeless. The squirrels in the house are stuck on fast-forward. Eventually, I put on a clean shirt and go to work. Some days I am happy for more than an hour. Brushing your teeth is a slow-motion disintegration. Every day I feel more and more alive.