dmseay

they finished breakfast and sat there with dirty dishes in front of em…quarter filled coffee cups…paper napkins balled up…a glass with orange pulp in it…they sat there in silence…

cats roamed ’round the kitchen…meowin’ and battin’ paws at one another as the air conditioner kicked on and the dishwasher did it’s job…he thought ’bout sayin’ somethin’…but what was there to say…he’d been caught…and it wasn’t the first time…

years ago she caught him…it was with her best friend…a tall leggy blonde that lived down the road a bit…the good book says to forgive…so that’s what she did…she figured it was her fault anyway…

but this time was different…she felt it in her bones…a coldness when they’d lay in bed together at night…there was no longer so much as a kiss…there was nothin’…

so they sat there in silence…no one cleared the table…no one got more coffee…they just sat there…his cell phone kept ringin’…hit dismiss…turned it over…they no longer looked at each other…stared down into their laps…

breakfast was over…

He said he had a gun…kept a hand on his pocket…I didn’t believe him…men lie all the time…they lie ’bout financial matters…women they’ve screwed…women they haven’t screwed…fights they never got into…jobs they never had…and now this one said he had a gun…

Men are always bluffing…always bluffing…you can feel it in your bones when something’s ’bout to go down…there’s a twinge of excitement…a feelin’ in the air…your blood races through the veins a little faster and the heart skips a beat or two…hair has electricity in it and the teeth chatter just a bit…just a bit…

I didn’t feel any of that with this guy…this small man barkin’ orders for me to give up my wallet…my money…my debit card…cellphone…he wanted it all…gratis…he just kept yelling orders as the train rolled on throughout the night overhead…sparks flyin’ off the rails…the smell of piss by a dumpster…

So…I told him…,Show me the gun…Go-on…show it to me…,my voice was deadpan…not a drop of sweat fell from my forehead…I just calmly asked him to show me the gun…,Go on…show it to me…

And…of course…he didn’t have a gun…he turned and ran…ran down Howard Street towards the Jamaican bakery where they made meat pies and sold cans of pop…he cut the corner and headed south down a side street…I watched him run away…he ran fast…you could tell he was scared…frightened…’cause somebody’d called his bluff…

We had fun…we had fun…

Trips to Providence and grocery shopping…talks ’bout when we get older…a dog named Norman…a gossamer house…

We had fun…we had fun…

And there was music in the background…always music…sweet notes plucked on a piano…a snare hit with precession…a bass that lollygagged…we’d listen and dance til moonlight shined through blinds…

We had fun…we had fun…

The parties we threw…friends all ’round…discussions ’bout mums and daffodils…where to see Autumn’s best colors…coffee chit chat with cream and sugar…that crazy face you made…

We had fun…we had fun…

Sunday afternoon rides in the country…a peaceful journey with windows rolled down and memories of hopscotch when you were a girl…grass green in meadows…wooden fences…barns with advertisements painted on ’em…

We had fun…we had fun…

Or…did we…

It’d be four o’clock in the mornin’ and he’d be up…bangin’ ’round in the kitchen…makin’ coffee…lookin’ for a pan to fry eggs and bacon in…you’d hear the metal bein’ shuffled under the cabinets…pots tossed aside…he was so damn loud…tough to sleep when there’s that much racket goin’ on…she’d march down the hallway rubbin’ dust from her eyes…coverin’ herself with her thick red robe…little reindeer dancin’ ’round on it…

How’d you sleep…,he’d ask…she nodded her head and smiled…said somethin’ ’bout a dream she had…mumblin’ over the sound of bacon sizzlin’ and eggs poppin’…

You say somethin’…,he turned to her as he crossed the floor to place two pieces of bread in the toaster…,fried or scrambled this mornin’…,the man said…,you want fried or scrambled…,she motioned for him to stir ’em up as she sat at the table and lit a cigarette…,scrambled…I can do that…,he winked…

So…had this dream last night…the dishwater blonde said…,bout her…it was ’bout her…,he poured the mixed eggs into the pan and looked at her…went back to lookin’ in the pan…

She was with us…right here in this house…just like she used to be when she was a kid…’fore she became a teen…,the woman drew in smoke and blew it back out…,she was playin’ with her dolls in the livin’ room…little shit…just playin’ with her dolls…,he got down a plate and scraped the yellow eggs onto it while she got up and walked over to the toaster…,hadn’t had a dream ’bout her in a long time…it’s been a long time…,he shook his head…sat down at the table…poured cream in his coffee turnin’ it almost white…

Honey…she left us…she left us…she’s gone…

I still dream ’bout her…every once in a blue moon…

Been years…

I know…

She made a choice…

Don’t say that…

God knows what happened to her…

Stop…just stop…would ya just stop…

And they sat there in silence eatin’ their eggs and bacon…not a word was said…just silence…he stared down at his plate and she at her’s…outside the mornin’ paper made a thud against the screen door…an alley-cat whimpered…these mornin’s…these mornin’s…

He asked her where she was goin’…she said nowhere…kept walkin’…just strollin’ down the road with the neon Budweiser sign flashin’ behind her…castin’ red and yellow colors on her white skin…the pitch black sky offered no hope…where are the stars when you need ’em…

And he kept followin’ along ‘side her in the old Ford…his head out the window…drivin’ slow…truck creepin’ by as she kept goin’ with her skinny arms folded and the wind blowin’ in her auburn hair…,why don’t you get in the truck girl…I won’t bite…,the young man said as he adjusted his baseball cap…stained with sweat marks…,just leave me be…,she said…,just leave me be…

She kept on her way…lookin’ straight ahead…her slow gate was pickin’ up pace…he pulled the truck over to the side of the road…a little rust fell off when he slammed the door…runnin’ in cowboy boots on the soft shoulder of the road…tryin’ to catch up with her…she started runnin’ too…takin’ off her pumps and buildin’ up speed in the wet grass…lookin’ behind her at a man that wouldn’t give up…

I’m gonna catch ya one of these days…,he shouted as he stopped…lit a Marlboro…,maybe not tonight…maybe not tomorrow…but one of these days you’re gonna be mine…,he headed back to his truck and turned on the ignition…radio was playin’ some kinda heavy metal head bangin’ bullshit…his tires peeled out as he stepped on the gas…drove right past her and stuck his head out the window…shoutin’…,I’m gonna catch ya one of these days…I’m gonna catch ya…tail lights turned red in the middle of the night…she just kept walkin’…

Iowa…was there ever a place as mysterious at three in the mornin’ as Iowa…drivin’ ‘cross it under pitch black skies and the smell of sulfer fillin’ the air…no-one else out on the road except the occasional truck driver pullin’ his weight through small towns with one stop light and a closed gas station on it’s edge…not even a cop car could be spotted…boys at home sleepin’ next to their wives in a spoon position…arms wrapped ’round tight while children down the hall dream of leavin’ one day for Chicago…Minneapolis…or some other place…any other place but Iowa…

I drove into Iowa from St.louis awhile back with no meds on me… or in my system…just runnin’ down the road in a blind ambition…manic…wantin’ to see somethin’ that no one else had ever seen before in America…a different kind of romanticism…some kind of mysticism out on the highways…followin’ the yellow lines…speedin’ along in my Dodge Avenger…the one the ex-wife was still makin’ payments on…radio turned to low number stations playin’ jazz out of southern Illinois…gospel in northern Missouri…and old alternative rock-n-roll as I approached Iowa…a state where writers come to dream and farmers have faced nightmares…months of drought…sometimes weeks of too much rain…but the soil always bounced back…it healed…producing corn…rows and rows and rows of the silky green plants reachin’ the sky above…you could smell it in the night air along with the sulfer and the cow shit…or…maybe it was just my imagination…

The mornin’ sun shows up around six…breakin’ like an egg over easy into my windshield…keys in the ignition…windows rolled down and the radio playin an Amos Lee song as I open the door and make my way to the men’s room at the rest area…truckers zippin’ by on the inner state…chilly mornin’ air fillin’ my lungs…I stretch my body and raise my arms above my head…leanin’ side to side with a tooth brush and a tube of toothpaste in my hands…I needed water…

And the bahtroom smells like a giant urinal cake…an old man sittin’ in the stall singin’ a George Jones song to himself as I splash my face with water and slick back my black hair…hearing the old man giggling out loud and talkin’…sayin’ things like…,They’re waitin’ for me in Phoenix…, and…,The lonely road is the only road I know…,made me wonder if I was hearin’ myself twenty years ahead…some old lonely guy out on the road with no-one to love or to be loved…just me by myself…made me wonder…and heart broken…cryin’ a little bit as I brushed my yellow teeth and spit out blood…a red…green and white mixture there in the sink…I splashed my face with water one more time…I was ready to start my day…my new adventure…in Iowa…

He looked outside at the dew on the ground and decided he’d go walk through it barefoot like when he was a boy…his dad used to call it walkin’ on water…

The cool grass made him think of his childhood in Arkansas…chilly Fall days with the leaves changin’ and squash and pumpkins bein’ harvested…mums in different colors…golds…rust…purple…sittin’ inside of country baskets on the wooden porch wrapped ’round the old house with black shutters and belly windows up top…white paint chippin’ off…

And so he walked through the dew on that cool September morn…with his mind a million miles away…away from bills and kids and his wife…back to when things were simple…he longed for simple…

As he strolled on the wet grass he wondered if his daddy ever took walks on water when he was a man…he never saw him do it…never saw his dad much at all…but he remembered the old man tellin’ him to go walk on water…he said walk on it as much as you can…

So now he spends his days walkin’ on the cool grass come Autumn…walkin’ in no particular direction…just walkin’…almost dancin’ to songs in his head…neighbors and kin folk looked out their windows at him as if he were crazy…

He just kept walkin’…just kept walkin’…

He parked his pick-up there in the rest area off of 80…somewhere in Iowa…that state stretches far ‘cross…it was night time and the cicadas were singin’ up a storm…early September…soon their songs would end…

Diesels flew on past…Greyhound buses too…no station wagons or family vans in this midnight hour…just trucks and buses…trucks and buses…he’d weaved in and out of ’em all day long…comin’ from the east…Cleveland…on that road that goes on forever…he was runnin’…he was always runnin’….

This time it was 80…last time I95…goin’ up and down the coast from Florida to Maine then back again…stoppin’ along the way for fast food sandwhiches and cold fries…he just had to go…it was in his blood…

So he sat there under purple skies on the hood of his Ford…thinkin’…thinkin’ of why he couldn’t settle down…stay awhile some where…find himself a nice woman…take on a job…some responsibilities…somethin’ was keepin’ him from it…keepin’ him from it…

Pulled some change from out of his pocket…enough for Reeses peanut butter cups…walked over to the vending machine and pushed G7…and out came his prize…

That’d be his only meal for the day…had to save some for gas…wanted to make it out to California…jump in the ocean…see where movie stars lived…walk down Sunset Boulevard…it’s what he thought he wanted…he was never too sure…

But he was sure ’bout one thing…he was always leavin’…always on the go…leavin’ hearts and items behind…had clothes and books all over the country…never took more than he could carry in a book bag…never…

And mornin’ came…the sun shone down on him at 5:50 in the mornin’…and he was back on the road…leavin’…always leavin’…always on the road…

Words whispered in a kiss…

Wanting…

Cicadas song…

An August dance amongst fools…

We worshiped purple skies…

Drunk on one another…

Leaving others behind…

Words whispered in a kiss…

A hundred miles away…

A hundred miles away…

How I long for you…

Happy Birthday…

It was easy at first…,she said…,lovin’ you…’fore I found out what the real you was all ’bout…the drinkin’…stayin’ out all night…on the prowl…like an old tomcat lookin’ for a stray…walkin’ back alleys and side streets…in search of a girl in red…done up in colors of the night…,she took a drag off her Camel…drank a shot laid before her…the old man just sat there…couldn’t look into her green eyes…she spoke truth…

And I was willin’ to tell ya I loved you…was willin’ to give it one last try…,the curvy blonde said…she took a deep puff…blew out smoke just over his gray hair into the dim light that shone down on ’em…ceiling fans twirlin’ away…,how many times has it been…who all you been with…, the old man just shook his head…put the bill of his John Deere cap in his mouth…chewed on it a little bit ’til she knocked it out of his hand…he trembled…,how many huh…how many has there been…,she put her cigarette out and shoved him with both hands…arms fully extended…he looked down at the dirty floor…cigarette butts…finger nails…old matchbook covers with phone numbers on ’em…

Then the young woman looked at the old man and said…,I can’t do this anymore…lookin’ for you all over town…callin’ folks and askin’ ’em if they know where my man is…askin’ ’em if they know where my man is…I could hear ’em laughin’ in silence…they knew where you were the whole time…hell…everyone in town does…four o’clock in the mornin’ tellin’ me you been out fishin’…smellin’ like sex…smellin’ like a bunch of wild women you do…smellin’…just smellin’…

He motioned for the bartender to bring over the check…the skinny little redhead laid it down in front of him…pulled out two twenties and swept his hand over ’em…looked at his woman one last time then got off the barstool and walked out…not one word said…just walked out…work boots dragin’ a little bit…she stuck her chest out and asked for another drink…just one more for the road…

It’s been three months…she hasn’t heard from him…