dmseay

There’s a path that leads from her back door into the woods. Tall trees like skyscrapers mark the trail. In the Fall men go hunting in this forest. Deer, squirrel, rabbit, run amongst the pines, oaks, and maples. And at night it’s been said that old lovers from generations back chase each other and land in piles of leaves; making their beds for the night; happy to be out of the grave.

Jesse believed this to be true. The young woman claimed she’d seen all kinds of spirits out there in the wilderness not to mention her own house; the house she was raised in; never moved; stayed in the same room for thirty years. Never dreamt of leaving.

The old wooden white house had been passed on from one generation to the next. It became Jesse’s at the age of twenty-five when her mom and dad had both passed. Momma caught cancer and daddy died two years later of a heart attack one night in the room next to Jesse. She heard him pass on; didn’t go to check on him. Just sat up in bed and listened as he went from one life to the next. Didn’t take long. He didn’t even cry out for her. Just never woke up.

Well, Jesse would take walks in the woods. She had her whole life. Walking barefoot in the Summertime following the trail all the way back to a stream where hawks would swoop down and catch their prey. She’d strip down to nothing and go in for a dip. The cold running water felt good to her. It was pure, crystal like. It was part of her life. And now it was part of Mike’s as well. He would hunt and fish almost everyday. Together they’d walk along the path carrying fishing poles or shotguns and set up camp. Sleeping bags were laid under the trees and at night they’d count stars together. They’d count until he fell asleep, but not her. Her energy was too high. She sensed souls all ’round her. It didn’t disturb her though. ‘Least she never let on that they did. She kept her cards pretty close to her vest. She didn’t let anybody inside. Too scared to.

Although she stayed put, she was running from something. Some kind of fear had been in her all along. Ever since she was a kid she was scared. Some people fear death. Jesse was afraid of living.

There’s that weird part of the evening where you can see both the sun and the moon as you look into the sky. Jesse was looking at em from the back porch. She had a cigarette in one hand and a vodka tonic in the other. She sipped through a straw.

It’d be hours ‘fore Mike was home. Working second shift wasn’t his favorite, but it was all that was offered at the garage; lack of seniority was hard on him. Got stuck with all the shit hours, always had to work holidays, and was looked down upon by the foreman, who didn’t like newbies at all. He just wanted to sit back in his office and snooze his whole shift. Didn’t want any questions, or have to do any training. Wanted things to be simple. And Mike tried his best to oblige.

Mike was working on an oil change of one of the City cop cars. Afterwards he’d check the tires, the fluids, send it on its way. He had five more to do while the other garage attendants sat in the lunch room and played cards, took naps, took it easy. Seniority has it’s perks.

As he lowered the car on the racks, he couldn’t stop thinking of Jesse the other night. He wondered what she was running from? And naked? It wasn’t the first time. They’d been together for almost three months now and he still couldn’t figure her out. Maybe she was just plain crazy?, he mumbled. Maybe she wants attention?, he rubbed grease through his locks of black hair and lit a cigarette. Looking outside the garage, he could see both the sun and the moon. He knew Jesse was looking at em too. She was always looking at the sky. Sometimes when it rained she’d go out back and just get soaked as she dreamt along clouds. She was the strangest woman he’d ever been with. And there weren’t that many.

They met at Hank’s Place on a Tuesday night. Hank’s was one of the few dive bars in town. Cigarette butts squished under your feet as you walked in the door. Smoke was thick and the beer choices were limited. A real shot and a beer joint. Nobody wanted to be caught dead in there, but there those unfortunates.

Every other night a fight would break out. Some guy would look at another the wrong way and bam, they were off to the races. Blades, guns, prison made weapons could be found on ’bout everybody in the place. Mike was no exception. The tall wiry man carried. Always had. Had a license for a concealed weapon. He’d never had to use it, but, there was a first for everything. He figured it was ’bout time.

Mike noticed Jesse as he put dollars in the jukebox. Main Street, Hurt So Good, Werewolves Of London, were just a few that he played. Wanted to make sure he had enough to buy beer. Music, he could live without. Beer? ‘Nother question. So, he kept looking at her and she started looking at him. Next thing you know he’s sitting down next to her at the bar, being all suave and cool. He lit her cigarette with a brass Zippo his uncle had given him when he came home from Nam. The uncle went over there with a knife grandad had given him. He didn’t come home with it. Mike kept it polished and in perfect shape. Had a Marine insignia on it. Did you serve?, she asked, drawing in and blowing out. He told her he hadn’t, then proceeded with the story his uncle had told him ’bout the lighter. Didn’t talk ’bout the knife. Not a word. It was grandpa who told the knife story in secret. It was as if he were proud. Or, just happy his son came home alive.

While he talked, Jesse moved in closer to him. He asked what kind of music she liked? Movies? T.V. shows? He was smiling the whole time. She asked if he’d like to come back to her place. That was three months ago

She ran naked down the highway. What was she running from? no-one was sure. Running fast on the shoulder, she tripped and fell, skinned her knees, that didn’t stop her. The short, squatty brunette got up and picked up the pace again. A pickup truck followed close behind.

Get in, he shouted from the Ford. Come on now, he kept on screaming at her. Finally he pulled over the truck and grabbed a Mexican blanket from the back and ran towards her. Come on girl, he said. It’s the middle of the night for Christ’s sake, getting close enough to throw the colorful blanket ’round her. It fell off into the tall weeds and trash that the Highway Dept. had not yet cleaned.

I said put this on, wrapping it around her wide body. What are you doing out here?, he asked. You’re shivering cold honey, It was Autumn’s first night. Come on back home, he lit a cigarette and offered her a drag. She took it from him and sucked in the smoke. She was breathing heavy.

You can’t be doing this, he told her. Can’t be up and running ’round naked down the highway. People will talk. They already think you’re strange enough.

It was true. There had always been talk around town of her strange behaviors. Gossip mostly. Middle aged women with nothing better to do than talk about someone they never met. However, they’d seen her in the Piggly Wiggly talking to herself. Saw her at the library checking out books on Eastern religions. Heard rumors she practiced witchcraft.

Come on now, he turned her around. Let’s get on home. She buried her brown eyes into his skinny chest. I’ll make ya some coffee. You can tell me all about it.

And they drove through town. Had the radio turned to a country station with Crystal Gayle singing a song ’bout turning brown eyes blue.

You like Crystal Gayle?, he asked. She didn’t answer. Didn’t even nod. I like her. Don’t hear much from her these days, he turned the music down. Like everyone…she just disappears. Is that what you were trying to do tonight? Disappear? I haven’t known you that long. And…I should’ve known you were trouble when we met. I sensed it. But, I let my senses go to the side, they pulled into the driveway and he turned the motor off. They sat there in silence for a minute or two. Then she asked, you gonna get the door for me? He nodded yes. Well?, he slammed his door and walked over quickly to open hers. She just got out. Felt the cold stones on her bare feet. Walked into the house through the back door and took a seat at the kitchen table. He followed behind.

I ain’t ’bout to tell you that you’re crazy, he poured grounds into the filter. But…that was a crazy thing to do, filling the coffee maker with water. You wanna talk about it? She shook her head. What am I gonna do with you? What am I gonna do with you?, she took a Marlboro from his pack. He sat a cup of joe down next to her and went over to the cabinet above the sink. Started mumbling, Aspirin…we got anything for a headache? Look at all these pills. Welbutrin…Seroquel…Vraylar…everything to fix your head but an aspirin, she laughed. Think that’s funny huh? I’m just hilarious ain’t I? He began to laugh too. We’re all in this together I guess. You’re crazy…I’m crazy…this whole world is crazy. He paused. Walked over to her and kissed her on the forehead, Goodnight.

Long stretches of time lead us to September.

A year passed.

‘Cross country we’ve traveled.

Suitcase in hand.

Looking for paradise, utopian ideas, hold on to youth.

She was ’round the corner.

Felt her touch, her breathe.

Autumn’s hair waved in the wind.

Asking questions like school boys do.

The curiousness that leads us to winter.

Oaks and maples lay bare.

She no longer laughed.

And I, I stand amazed.

A new king awaits.

There were no streetlights on as he walked down Harrison, past the old railroad tracks, the backs of restaurants, grease traps, and dogs on chains barking into the night. It was pitch black. Car headlights bounced on the uneven pavement; cigarette butts tossed out windows and stereos blasting hip-hop with strong bass lines. Cop cars cruised the side streets and a siren could always be heard.

He walked this way home every night from the bar among the smells of cinnamon bread baking and beer on his breath. The fat man tasted every last drop two or three times as it rattled in his paunch and came up to the top of his mouth before spitting it out onto someone’s front yard. The sound of him clearing his throat could be heard for blocks. Men getting home from second shift jobs set their clocks to this noise. They knew when they heard the stirring of phlegm it was close to midnight. They’d wash their coffee cups and head off to bed knowing that all was right with the world.

But, one midnight there was not the sound of soul coughing. There wasn’t a drunk stumbling down Harrison. It was quiet. Just quiet. Cars didn’t creep down the street. Squad cars did not turn on their sirens. And, the fat man didn’t walk home that night. It was as if the whole neighborhood knew that something wasn’t right. Like it was on the ten o’clock news. But, it was not.

At midnight the bar closed. The big man made his way to the door and paused for a moment. He mumbled to himself as he always did, then turned the knob and headed out into the night. Except this time, he did not walk down Harrison. He didn’t walk at all. With his first step out the door, a massive moan could be heard coming from him. He was doubled over in pain and then fell to the concrete below; spread out like an old map he lay there, weasing, barely breathing, and spit coming from his thick lips. By the time the bartender came to his side, it was too late. The fat man was gone. Gone for good.

Some say he went on to heaven while others believe his ghost still lingers down on Harrison Street. But, every night you can smell the cinnamon coming from the bakery. Thick bass lines seeping out of cars. And, the sound of the big man clearing his throat at midnight.

Goodnight, Earl.

A blood moon watches over her.

Scarlet ways she has.

Waiting, wondering.

A spell was cast long ago.

In love with love.

Body bare.

It was not to be.

A dream?

They lay together under stars.

Backs wet from dew.

What was it they waited for?

Her love was always there.

Wanting.

He took the bait.

Now we’ll see.

This moon turn silver again.

There wasn’t an inch of truth in what she said. Every word was a lie. Big stories made up ’bout being a dancer in New York. Said she was a Rockette. Did a show out in Vegas. A “B” movie star.

Said she was married to Howard Hughes. Didn’t leave her a dime. Nothing to fall back on when he left her. Hard times.

She sat there in the hotel bar next to him; stirred her drink while the ice melted.

Now here I am with a new man, the frosted blonde said. He’s not really my man. Just a traveling companion, she slid over closer. You like to travel? We been all over. Little Rock, Dallas, Albuquerque. Says we’re going to wind up back in Hollywood. That’s the plan Stan, she laughed.

You know, he’s gone for the whole afternoon, she flirted. I could use some company. Couldn’t you?, he ordered two more. I like you, she said. Strong silent type. Like a leading man, he laughed. You just slide a bill over to me and we’ll see if some magic can happen, she stroked his arm like a cat.

You have the right to remain silent, he began as he pulled his silver cuffs out. Anything you say can be held against you, she began to cry. You have the right to an attorney, they began walking out of the bar.

The deal was done.

It’s pitch black at 8:30.

These August days will soon be over.

Autumn is on the way.

A new painting will cover earth.

Streams will run cool.

And frost will sting our hands as we walk through gardens of old.

Out where squash grew in colors of green and yellow.

The dew will seep into our shoes.

I never asked for your hand. You simply gave it.

Clutching tightly.

I smell you in my sleep.

Yet, you are far away.

So far. So far.

I gave you to the seasons.

May you never wither and die.

I’ll be waiting at the covered bridge.

Where wood smells of musty oak.

Breathe in this dream.

Come home.

He watched the moon from his bedroom window while his wife lay asleep, dreaming maybe.

The light was a hazy yellow and it shined down on his street. He wanted to catch the rays, wad em up and make a doll for his little girl down the hall fast asleep, dreaming maybe.

This was not a sliver, or a half moon. This was whole and beaming. Pickups passed underneath, semis sped towards it, and parked cars with teens in the backseats took in its magic, dreaming maybe.

It was three in the morning. He walked down to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Went out to the shed and looked at his guns hanging on the rack. They say the moon makes you crazy. There were dogs barking at it, wolves singing to it. He kept looking at his guns. Was he dreaming? maybe.

She heard nothing on that day back in January. New Year’s eve had come and gone. There was leftover glitter on her coat. A top hat hung in the closet; colors of gold, red, green in tiny particles stuck to the black velvet with a ribbon ’round it. She locked it away for good keeping. Didn’t want to forget the year, the celebration.

He kissed her at midnight as the band played. Took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. They had never met. She had no one. He had no one. They had each other. Two lonely souls kissing. Balloons fell from the ceiling. And folks laughed and cheered. Another year in the books. Here’s to tomorrow, he whispered. There was nothing else to say. He looked at her. Kissed her again. And walked away. Leaving her behind. She did not follow.

And the snow began to fall while she waited for her cab. Feet freezing. Her mother always begged her to wear sensible shoes. She never listened; not to her mom, or dad. Words held no importance to her. They were just words. Sounds. Just like a man telling her he loved her softly in her ear; noise, rattling noise. It had always been that way.

She heard nothing on that day back in January. Not a crow outside nor a lover’s woo. Alone she sat by the fire knitting a scarf for no one. For no one. Watching the clock as it’s hands reached midnight. She smiled. She smiled.