solo at midnight

by Robert L. Penick

Valentine’s Day, 2018. You are in your desk chair, collapsed like an obsolete star, like Enron, like the statue at the end of that ape movie. Your laptop has located a string of Peppa Pig cartoons online and you revel in her optimism and bravery. The wide-eyed wonder you once had, back in grade school, before the parents, jobs, and repetition over decades turned you into this lump of sour soul and disappointment, is there in the bustling little porcine girl. You smile at the antics, get lost in the whole innocent scene. 

You’re drinking Fleischmann’s gin, mixed with Diet Sprite. It has teleported you to a personal Eden, a place lush with warmth and good feelings. While you rock the glass in your hand, the scars smooth themselves out and nearly disappear. This is good therapy, you think. Sitting for a bit without the scarf of nails wrapped around your neck, the knives temporarily pulled from your heart. You head into the kitchen for a refill; only a drunk keeps the bottle on the desk. There is much less left than you had thought. Glancing at the microwave’s clock, you realize it’s 11:45 p.m. and you have outlasted the saddest day once again. Walk back, settle in. A survey of email reveals nothing new, but you don’t care.  You have Peppa, and Fleischmann’s, and the world became irrelevant the moment it stopped caring about you. 

Another cartoon. Peppa is trying to learn to whistle. Her friend, Susie Sheep, can’t, either, but suddenly learns. Peppa finds herself the only member of a sect of the excluded. You get odd comfort from her plight, lean back, hit the gin, whistle your single note. 

Photo of Robert L. Penick

BIO: The poetry and prose of Robert L. Penick have appeared in well over 200 different literary journals, including The Hudson Review, North American Review, Plainsongs, and Oxford Magazine. The Art of Mercy: New and Selected Poems is now available from Hohm Press, and more of his work can be found at theartofmercy.net.