The Inevitability of Swearing

I did it right. The timing was perfect.

Other me never showed to assail everyone’s ears with coarse vitriol. She came, and I was charming. By the time we parted ways her number rested comfortably in my pocket, and our first date occupied a place of honor in my dayplanner.

The jump back wouldn’t come. The way remained closed.

My brain waged war against reason, logic, and sanity in the attempt to sort out the to and fro of time. Physics taunted me. The cosmos laughed at my vain struggles to unlock its mysteries despite having accidentally unlocked its greatest.

I didn’t go home, not the ratty college apartment I’d outgrown so long ago. Streets so many years in my past welcomed me. My response came in a torrent of foul words, epithets, oaths to dark gods, and slurs of assorted sizes. My face turned red, and my lungs ached.

Kindly, a pair of drunken bums answered my calls with gusto and impressive creativity considering years of drug and alcohol use.

Cold comfort decades from where and when I called home.

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