the end of cash sinclair

i walked to the lake, stewing, angry, dejected, hopeless. i sat upon the promontory, sprayed by crashing waves and mauled by thoughts that the life i’ve lived has been entirely one of shame. irredeemably shameful.

i looked out at the choppy waters, and suddenly i was fine.

post script

and on your darkest days, through its most unexpected avenues, life assaults you with its beauty.

Clem, sing me that song again

Last summer was fine

Looking at god

With open eyes

Now l am fine

Running on empty

Looking just fine

I think I'm out of my mind