dmseay

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.

The moon was yellow that night and only showin’ a sliver. They followed it in their ’67 Dodge Dart they’d bought from a priest for $500. Had 30,000 miles on it. Father would drive it to the liquor store and back each week for a number of years. All parts were original.

So they followed the moon with its gray skies around it. Took 80 headin’ west towards Iowa. Planned on goin’ further; see where the night takes em. Nothin’ set in stone, no maps, just a full tank and two coffee mugs in their holders. They’d get refills along the way. Hazy brown joe with sugar and cream. Lived off of cheese filled torpedoes and Polish sausages. Hadn’t seen a vegetable for days, not since Chicago where the had their fill. Turnips, yams, greens, tomatoes, baskets full. They’d cook em up in their kitchen over in Ukraine Village where they had a house, a dog, a wooden fence, a Sunday paper always on their front doorstep. Paper boy was always late.

But now they were runnin’.Out on the road. Drivin’ into the night away from a life that haunted em. For they had committed sins along the way. Grave sins. Acts that would follow em for years.

She had a lover over in Andersonville. Some good lookin’ salesman who did things to her that only other women could imagine.The lovin’ was good; got together on lunch breaks, lies ’bout business trips, workin’ late hours. Flowers were always in a vase.

It took him a couple of years, but, he caught on. Followed her one night from the office where the two would sneak off to some North side hotel. Waited in the parkin’ lot; cried the next mornin’ like you ain’t never seen a man cry; two of em kissin’ each other goodbye. Something had to change.

So, he asked her ’bout it. First she denied, called him crazy, paranoid. Pictures were shown, proof was givin’, the tall blonde confessed. Bared her soul to him. Cryin’ and carryin’ on. Said she still loved her husband, wanted to be true. So, the little fat man walked over to his desk drawer and pulled out his pistol and handed it to her. Told her to keep quiet and listen. You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, he said. And, I’ve been true all these years. There’s only one way to resolve this, she held the gun and nodded her head, her blue eyes filled with tears. She checked the chamber. One. One bullet in there. One bullet for him. And with that one shot, she ended her husband’s life.

The moon was yellow that night and only showin a sliver.

A cool breeze blew through the kitchen window; smell of scrambled eggs and biscuits made it’s way ’round the house; permeating every room; it was time to get up. Time to start the day.

It wasn’t too soon that they were all gathered at the table, Jesse, Ann, and their son Jack, that the phone started ringing. Ringing at seven in the morning. Like a rooster crowing. It was the sheriff wanting to know what time Jack got home last night? Said there was a bunch of mail boxes knocked off their stands out on Route 9, south of town, where all the coloreds lived. Ann’s face turned red. What time you get home last night boy?, she asked in a harsh voice. The boy continued eating his eggs, chewing on a biscuit. I asked what time you got home?, her voice got meaner.

Who wants to know?

Sheriff boy.

Sheriff?, Jesse put his fork down.

I got home ’round ten I guess.

You can tell him yourself, she stretched the cord all the way cross the kitchen.

Yes sir. Yes sir, Jack responded. I will sir. Yes sir, he lifted the wire over Ann’s head and hung up the phone. Says he wants me to come down when I’ve finished breakfast.

You’re done boy, Ann said as she lifted his plate. You done it this time ain’t you?

Done what?, Jesse asked.

Was out on the black side of town knocking over mail boxes.

It’s not like they get mail anyway ma. ‘Cept maybe a welfare check.

So you were out there knocking over boxes.

I’m not saying that ma. I’m not saying that. Just saying if I did do it there was no great loss. ‘Sides, their breaking into stores right now. Looting and rioting.

Go get your coat. I’ll drive you down there. You’ve lost your privileges

What is this? Guilty ‘fore proven so.

Go get in the car.

Jesse stayed and finished his breakfast. Took a sip of coffee and let out a chuckle. Don’t that beat all.