Hello…I’m good…what…I can’t hear you…I said I’m good…the truth is…I wanted to talk…Hello…you keep coming in and out…you sound like you’re in a cave…some cave all the way at the end of it…what…she’s OK…I guess…we don’t talk much anymore…some kind of silent agreement we have…yes…right…after twenty-five years there’s not much to say…hold on…somebody’s screaming outside…cussing…now I hear you…we’ve been going down this road a long time…started after the kids left home…actually it started way before then…everything just became so routine…we don’t even say good morning…still makes my lunch…we go to church on Sundays…just left blank…just this blank feeling inside…hollow…hold on…hold on a minute…had to step outside…don’t smoke inside the house…figured I can do that much…I’m not miserable…I’m good…this is just a natural path…happens to everybody whose married a long stretch of time…OK…I will…talk to you soon…give my best to Betty…sure I mean it…I’ll give your best to Nancy…I will…I can do that…she won’t ask…never does…OK…night…

The whole town talked ’bout ’em…these two…with their idealistic ways…men in bars said he was a dreamer and she was just followin’ along…women at church said she was no good for him…said she’d lead him down a dangerous path…you’d see ’em over at the town square smokin’ and jokin’ with the rest of the vagabonds…crazy Gypsies…stayed out all hours of the night…til the cops would come and tell ‘ em to get movin’ on…it became a ritual…

And so they’d go with their sleepin’ bags under the overpass and curl up in each other’s arms…volunteers from shelters and churches would keep an eye on ’em…bring soup on cold nights…bologna sandwiches in the Summer with small bags of potato chips and toothpaste with toothbrushes…the couple stored their gifts in a book bag along with a copy of the holy Bible…he’d read to her on cool evenin’s down by the river…tellin’ her ’bout gettin’ baptized in the muddy water when he was just a kid…she’d smile and rest her brunette hair on his skinny shoulder…

They had a good life at one time…he’d work at the grocery store to pay rent and take her out on Saturday nights…she washed dogs for a buck or two at the Petco…come home at night covered in hair…smellin’ too…he didn’t care…they’d fix tv dinners and watch episodes of Cops on the local yokel station…her green eyes would close…fallin’ asleep right there on the couch in a spoon position…he’d grab a blanket and cover ’em with it…

But…they’d both become down on life after awhile…tried to have kids and it didn’t work…money became tighter and tighter ‘tween ’em with bills always bein’ tossed to the side and rent never gettin’ paid on time…months would go by without a dime to the landlord…’ventually got kicked out…there was never enough…

So…they became despondent…not carin’ anymore ’bout what people thought…quit their jobs…decided to just be homeless and sell plasma every once in awhile when they needed a little dough…needles stuck in arms withdrawin’ precious fluids…they’d turn their eyes away…couldn’t watch…

They never grew tired of each other…never argued…never fought…they were in it together…this was the life they’d chosen…these two people…these two people…

It’s funny…,she said…,I never know what you’re up to…,little brunette lit a cigarette…blew out the match…,One day you’re here makin’ love to me and the next you’re gone just like some old dog retreatin’ from a battle field…,the short woman adjusted her bra strap…, Think you could leave a note or somethin’…gimme some kinda warnin’ the night before that you’re gonna take off like that…hell…I didn’t know if you were headin’ out for work…some girl you got ‘cross town…maybe you gotta whole family I don’t know ’bout…,he took a swig of coffee and glanced over the newspaper on the kitchen table…,Hey…you listenin’ to me…, the old man nodded his head…ran his fingers through his black hair…,You just come and go as you please don’t you…maybe you’re some kinda spirit that runs through this house at midnight…disruptin’ my sleep…makin’ me do things like I never done before…

Like what…

Lots of things…carin’ ’bout a man is one of ’em…never cared for any man ‘fore you…now you got my world all turned upside down…and sideways too…,she took a deep drag and blew out smoke like a dragon…,Where do you go when you leave me…never call or text…just show up at my door ready to screw…and I take you in every time…some kinda fool I am…you don’t ever say a word…just give me that look…that wild look…like your heart’s filled with desire just for me…like I’m your only one…am I…am I your only one…,he took a cigarette from her pack…didn’t say a word…didn’t nod or shake his head…just played with the cigarette…packin’ it on the wooden table…,Well…there’s gonna be some changes…,she said…,One night you come by here I might not be here…might not be waitin’ for ya…I can take off too you know…I don’t have to wait ’round here for you every night…a phone call that never comes…I can go off and do things too…like head out west…or drive on the highway and see where it takes me…maybe I got a piece of action ‘cross town you ever think of that…I can go sit in a bar all night long and have drinks bought for me if I choose…,he smiled…,You need to start communicatin’ with me…tellin’ me what’s goin’ on inside that head of your’s…I can’t read minds you know…but I can tell…I know when a man is not bein’ true…or…has other interests…,he got up and kissed her on the forhead…walked towards the door…she stood there in silence…quiet as a church…,You comin’ back tonight…,she whispered…he closed the door behind him…

what is pure…

talkin’ ’bout…

purity…what is pure…

you come up with some crazy questions…askin’ what’s pure…ain’t nothin’ pure…nothin’ on this earth ain’t…

got to be somethin’…

what…water…they done messed that up…the land…they placed enough chemicals in it to make it explode with one cigarette butt bein’ crushed under your foot…

no…somebody’s soul…gotta be a soul out there that hasn’t been compromised…

like a new born…

maybe…

closest thing I can guess to it…Lord Jesus Christ…he ain’t come back yet…but I heard a preacher say that he’d be back here soon…whole world’s fallin’ apart…just a matter of time…

maybe there’s some mystic in the East…someone nobody knows ’bout…he just sits in prayer all day long…fasting for days on end…readin’ all types of religious books…talkin’ to Vishnu in his sleep…

don’t go gettin’ all weird on me now…talkin’ all that foriegn fabricated bullshit…Jesus is as American as it gets…hang your hat on him…

i’m just lookin’ for somethin’ pure…somethin’ to believe in…that’s all…that’s all…

He’d grown used to it…every night she had too much to drink…would curl up on the couch in her robe and tell him to fetch her another one…long fingers with painted red tips held out a stemmed wine glass with purple sediment in the bottom…he did as he was asked…

And she never moved from that spot…in the mornin’ when he woke up she was there on the couch…evenin’ time when came home from workin’ all day at the GM plant she’d still be there with a bottle of burgandy by her side…he’d join her for one or two…that’d be it…could never keep up with her…

She’d polish off a glass and then lay her red hair down in his lap as he stroked it…lighting a cigarette…she could barely reach the ash tray on the table…he’d take it from her and put it out…Virginia Slims smoked down to the filter…her mouth tasted of menthol when she would kiss him in a vain attempt to make love…he always knew it wouldn’t go far…

The days of them makin’ love was long over…he’d settle for her layin’ there…watchin’ the television…some guy askin’ a celebrity questions with the sound down low…cars would drive by…he’d look at ’em…just look at ’em…

She’d murmer these incoherent stories…tales of when she was in high school…her first love…first job…first time she got drunk…same stories every night…he’d just nod his head…

He was in love with her…sometimes things don’t matter…,Hey babe…go fill up my glass please…, she’d say…and he would…he always would…

I owe that to her…

She doesn’t even remember you…

Still…it’s only twice a month…

Do you have to bring her flowers…

She likes ’em…always did…

Honey…she’s not here anymore…she’s been gone for awhile now…it’s just a body…no spirit…or mind…you need to move on…

We were together for so long…can’t just stop seeing her…I owe that to her…

No…you feel guilty…guilty ’cause of us…that guilt’s gonna eat you up if you don’t watch it…what’re you seekin’ some kind of salvation…what’re are you some Christ figure…let it go…

Just let me be…just let me be…I remember when we got married…I told her til death do we part…I told her that…it was a vow….

You’ve held your vows…what good does it do her to see a stranger every two weeks…that’s what you are…a stranger to her…some kind of ghost maybe…she don’t know you anymore…do you understand that…

Yes…yes…I do…Now I’m gonna start the car and drive up there with her flowers…you gonna be here when I get back…

I don’t know…I don’t know…

In the beginning there was nothing…not a spark…nor a flame…nothing…not even a flicker of hope…she was to be looked at from afar…I didn’t dare get too close…maybe a few feet away from her on a subway train…a couple of tables across in a restaurant…watched as she walked up 8th Avenue past 24th Street each day…her chocolate skin glistening in sunlight…walking by vagabonds…beggars…business men…thieves of all kind…I was a peasant perched on a stoop looking-on…I’d never seen such beauty…

And one night it happened…she caught me staring at her around 42nd Street…in a crowd of people…she stood out…standing above others her green eyes met my brown eyes…she smiled…I took a drink of coffee and pretended not to notice…it was of no use…couldn’t stop watching her…she had this magic about her…to be trapped under her spell…a lifetime I would give…

We never said hello…no introductions made…I never saw her again after that…she must’ve changed routes…

you hear these cars comin’ and goin’…people talkin’ in the alley…that gate outside keeps blowin’ in the wind…creakin’ back and forth…everytime someone leaves they forget to lock that thing…so it keeps moanin’ like there’s no tomorrow…wood slapin’ wood…that metal keeps clickin’ but it won’t hold…won’t latch…reminds me of the back door on my parent’s house when I was a kid…it’d bang in the wind all night long…sometimes real hard and loud while other nights it’d just sing softly…

and that wind keeps howlin’ outside…train wails as it goes through town…everyone’s asleep…last call at the bar was made an hour ago…people eatin’ at Denny’s…pots of coffee served all ’round…and I sit here listenin’ to that gate rattle…it’s gonna fall off it’s hinges soon…that’s what happened to that back door at my parent’s house…it came off one night…woke up in the mornin’ and there was nothin’ there…just a big open space on the back of the house…the door was found a couple of houses down the road…glass on windows was broken…the back deck was split into pieces…dog house was busted up too…

some car blowin it’s horn at three in the mornin’…keeps blowin’ it’s horn…people yellin’ at each other over some deal gone bad…this guy wants money…that guy wants dope…some woman yellin’ ’bout her fair share…and that gate keeps blowin’ in the wind…screechin’ and weepin’…soundin’ like my mom did the night of the big storm that took away that back door…daddy said we never used it anyway…

you hear these cars comin’ and goin’…people talkin’ in the alley…that gate outside keeps blowin’ in the wind…

Trains wailed into the night…freight trains carryin’ goods throughout the country…some empty cars…the old man stood by the tracks watchin’ as it went by slowly…then picked up speed and then slow again…he was waitin’ for the right opportunity…

All his life he wanted to jump a train…head out into the dark not knowin’ where he was goin’…never sure where he’d wind up…could be the southside of Chicago over by Canaryville where Sandburg told of the old stockyards playin’ host to cattle and pigs comin’ in for slaughter each day….

Maybe out West in San Francisco where Kerouac recited poetry at all hours of night…highly fueled on alcohol and bennies…gettin’ his kicks on jazz played by old black men in bars boppin’ it up while the crowd yells yeah…yeah…yeah…

Could be he’d go down South to the land of Dixie followin’ that ghost of Faulkner into Mississippi with tall oaks and dogwoods coverin’ old dirt roads traveled on day after day… men haulin’ cotton to be processed at the local gin while their women are at home stirrin’ up mysteries for children to live off of for generations to come…

Then there’s New England…dear old New England with words carved out by Melville…travelin’ up and down I95 with Queequeg on lookout as the train slides into New York with traces of Whitman’s words dancin’ from the lips of poets both young and old…callin’ out, I Sing The Body Electric…

But Brooklyn’s not Brooklyn anymore and the prophet Miller has long since gone on to the next life…He danced his way onto the streets with twelve messengers followin’ his every step…a jitterbug…muskrat ramble…the Charleston…a dime a dance…”Once you’ve given up the ghost everything follows with dead certainty,even in the midst of chaos…”

Trains wailed into the night…freight trains carryin’ goods throughout the country…some empty cars…the old man stood by the tracks watchin’ as it went by slowly…then picked up speed and then slow again…He was waitin’ on the right opportunity…

There was a silence that night…an unusual quiet…no dogs barkin’…or guns goin’ off…wasn’t any cars draggin’ mufflers down Creighton Avenue…not even a siren from an ambulance…there was nothin’…

And he sat up in his room lookin’ at banks of frozen snow piled up along alleys…parkin’ lots…streets…it glowed under moonlight…

He wondered what his next move would be…stick out winter in the Midwest…go back East…maybe head down to sunny Florida…Vegas…he’d never been to Vegas…thinkin’ ’bout that desert climate…some place warm…

So he sat and looked at the snow in silence…liked to watch it come down…flakes fallin’…coverin’ the old Dodge up on concrete blocks…sidewalks…rooftops…just an all out quiet white…

Would he miss this…

Wasn’t sure…