There follows two 55s were written by my brother Michael who is steadfastly refusing all my entreaties to start his own blog. He sent these to me as emails and I decided to post them today instead of writing something myself.
'I Can't Drive' 55
"Two miles…nobody around at 2am…I only had a few" she rationalizes herself unsteadily into her Volvo.
“I can’t drive after drinking.” Billy hugs, kisses, leaves his girlfriend to walk two miles home.
Car coming. Light red. Safe to cross…..
The Volvo carries Billy’s broken body 200 yards. His legs are found by the traffic lights.
Don't drink and Type.
First I typed, Sgergp [ohgfh fdhdp p-ds[fi iug f09w=045jvnv allwh kjfhf iwqr ugfdgf. UEIU kldfFLdjfi sfgbsnb’lvlozfdh g[oawre hytW0GFVL. XK CNV OARHGFspcjvLI[XC fh0Q kld fFLdjfisfgb snb’l vlo zfdhg[oaw rehytW0GF. VLX KCN VOA RHGFspcjvLI[XCfh 0Q0 0YH! F9WFk soai dp0d uudodfh sdkfs ifge9ygepvjx lhgdai Goirh YVO!
Then I fell asleep on the keyboard trying to write a 55
Update: He did it a blog is born which he claims he may never post on and I reply........
INSATIABLE.... a belated 55.
It calls to me in the night.
Pleading to be fed.
Begging for attention.
“Please come to me, I need you!”
I cover my ears to block out the sound of its pitiful entreaties.
No use, the voice is in my head and will not be silenced.
There is only one solution.
Write another post.