Old Habits Die Hard

And that’s how it goes for you. It’s the first time you tie your laces again and go for a run on tuesday nights. You skip the hump day beers. Fight the gut acid and go for that extra cup of joe around six in the evening. You shake on deals. You skip driving around town in a hotbox and sit down to do the work. The dentist says your teeth have been good, and you know since you brush before you hit the sack these days. You run on thursdays too if you pass on the mat class. You learn that a kilo of chicken is two breasts. Dinner is half of one. You bury yourself in the work. You don’t like mushrooms but then throw it in the saute in honor of something new. You close deals. We’re moving on, you tell a stranger over a martini. You’d rather give the olive. But you try and swallow and it still doesn’t work out for you. Saturday morning you’d rather run but you’re home way too late for a Friday again. So you sit on the bed and rub your feet on the carpet. Feels new. Flick a light and burn the tip of a joint and you tell yourself, a day at a time, man. A day at a time. You click on a name and it’s your favorite familiar stranger. It’s sunday morning and you go run an extra loop. Old habits die hard, after all. Maybe that’s how it goes for her too.

 

 

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