The Plan - fiction in progress.

"o.k.
all right.
but when things go south,
don't pick up the phone.
don't call.

I won't be a crutch
for another of his cripples."

Those were the last words I said to her.
It must've been about a year and a half ago...
A year and eight months...
They had the decency to disappear.
Maybe it was Dallas, or Atlanta, or maybe Chicago.
It doesn't matter.
What does matter is that she's back,
and he's not.
Third party reports place her at the bar,
at the theatre.
I've just been lucky so far that we haven't run into each other.
That luck can't hold out.
I need a plan.
Something more than just being drunk.
I need a plan.
I don't know what I want,
but I know that without a plan,
without a plan,
I know what I'll get...
confused...
confused is what I'll get
and confused is the last thing I need.
Confused is never the first step
down the path towards what I want.
Confused gets me nothing.
Nothing but trouble.