who needs sleep

we sit in the car in a parking lot. it’s raining and condensation is already collecting on the inside of the windows. he talks at me. about the call. the possibilities that arise. and eats the tacos he’s purchased from the drive thru woman moments before. i look only at my hands. shadowed by the speckled misty glass. because the things in my mind are unspeakable. and the air in the car too hot – too pungent – filled with disillusionment and cheap taco seasonings. too tired to care, i wait for him to bring me home. throw up once. turn off all the lights. and curl into a ball on the couch in my office.