dmseay

he faded away into nothing…gone before our eyes…some kind of magic trick…just disappeared in the flash of a second…a brilliant light…then gone…presto…alakazam…never to come back again…a real show stopper…

some say they saw him later at Katz Deli…eating a pastrami sandwich and drinking an egg cream…others tell tales of him hanging out in Times Square with the throngs of tourists taking selfies and gazing into lights…then there are people who’ve seen him in Central Park up by Strawberry Fields…playing guitar and singing, Imagine….slightly off key…a tip jar at his feet…

but I say he’s gone…he’s gone and he’s not coming back to dear old Gotham…his suitcases were packed long ago…headin’ out to Montana, or Idaho…wantin’ to write about the West…cowboy tales…

people change…

two hookers sat in the diner with their pimp at five o’clock in the morning…eyeing the menu on the wall with the Pepsi Cola logo in the center of it…glowing in a hazy yellow light…

I want French toast…,the red head said as she put lipstick and checked herself in a handheld mirror…,no…I want biscuits and gravy…talking to herself…

Girl you never can ‘cide what you want…,the blonde whore said…,just get somethin’ and be done with it…I’m gonna have a donut and a glass of milk…

what kinda donut you want…,asked the hillbilly waitress behind the counter…

what kind you got…,the greasy haired server brought over a box of donuts and pastries…pointed them out to the young girl posing as a woman…

what kind is this one…

that’s a bear claw…

and that one…

an apple fritter…

hmmmm

damn girl…make up your mind…,the young black pimp said…showing a tattooed tear drop on his right cheek…

French toast or biscuits and gravy…,red said…still mumbling to herself…

I’ll have a Pepsi…,the pimp said…,and a fried egg sandwich with cheese on it…

white or wheat honey…

white…

I want that big old bear claw thing there…,blondey said…rolling up her sleeves…exposing marks dancing up and down her arms…

I guess I’ll have the biscuits and gravy…,she put on eye liner and licked her thick lips…

and they all three sat there…looking at cop cars as they drove by…downtown busses passing in the windows…while Maggie May played in the background…

and they drove through Pennsylvania…over hills and into mountains…green…surrounded by green trees and black top road…deer darting out…and squirrels playing games…

he turned to her and said…,ain’t this somethin’…ain’t this somethin’…all this nature…,she nodded her head and went back to her texting…,are you lookin’ at it…do you see it…,the old man asked…,all this beauty…,he grinned…,she said…,uhuh…,and kept on starin’ down at her cell phone…

it’s good to be out on the open road ain’t it…roll your window down…take in that fresh air…,he told her…she pushed the lever without saying a word…the window went down in slow motion…,soon we’ll be in New York City…,he said…the teenage girl smiled…,knew that would getcha excited…you’re not one for nature now are you…,she went back to texting…

what’s the first thing you wanna do in New York…,he said…,first thing I want is one of ’em big slices a pizza they got…does that sound good…,she looked out the window briefly then back at her phone…,you never been to New York have ya…they call it the Big Apple…don’t know why…but they do…also call it Gotham…you ever heard that…,she put her phone down…,yessir…,she said…I’ve heard of both of those…,she started looking through her back pack that she had between her legs…

you sure do talk a lot…,she said…,I don’t mind though…I don’t mind…,she found a brush and ran it through her long black hair…,I’m glad I gotta ride from you mister…nice of ya…how long till we’re there…,he told her another hour…

she went back to her phone…

This rain won’t stop…,he said…,just keeps comin’ down…have to build an ark…,he told her…,reminds me of that time in Batesville when we had that bad storm…all night it rained…thunder too…,the bony man lit a cigarette…closed his Zippo…,you remember that honey…’member that…we were both soaked to the bone…kids cryin’…it was somethin’…this storm’s just like it…just like it…

you roll up the windows on the truck…,she asked…he shook his head…,you best go do that…probably too late by now…it’s always too late with you…,the blonde muttered under her breath…go on…roll up those windows…don’t wanna sit on no wet seat tomorrow…,took a drink of iced tea…

I’m goin’…gonna do it right now…,put on his jacket…,could’ve swore I rolled em up…it’s always somethin’…always somethin’…get tired of it…

tired of what…

always somethin’ havin’ to be done…

that’s just the nature of things…just the way it is…now go on…go on and get out there…,she adjusted her tube top…,check the shed too while you’re at it…make sure it’s locked…

gotcha…

She lit a cigarette and sat down at the kitchen table…and started to cry…

I didn’t think of that…

well…you should’ve…

how was I to know…

you think these things out…a guy thinks these things out…did you put any thought into this…

sure…I put thought into it…put lot’s of thought into it…I studied it quite thoroughly…the shape of the building…the number of people that go in and out…the times trucks arrive…had it down to a tee…but…I didn’t think of that…

never tell anybody your plans…

thought I could trust this guy…

this guy…this guy…the one you grew up with…your best friend so to speak…those are the one’s you don’t trust the most…they’ll sell your soul if they could…it’s always ’bout money…and best friends are just as bad as the guy down the street…only give ’em limited information…

no…how was I to know…

that’s right…you’re not a professional…professional’s know these things…me…I don’t trust anyone…not a soul…I keep to myself…that’s why your in this jam…you didn’t keep to yourself…

right…

this line of work isn’t easy…it requires a delicate manner…a very delicate manner…know what I’m sayin’…

yes…yes I do…

next time will be easier…and then the one after that…but for now just sit quiet…quiet…this too shall pass…you’ll get through it…I did…your friend did…we all did…it just requires you keep quiet…

okay…

now…this guy who snitched…where can I find him…

don’t know…

think he left town…

could’ve…

what kind of a guy does that…tells like a little girl…I’ll tell you…one whose jealous…envious…you were privy to somethin’ he wanted…

money…

bingo…it’s always ’bout money…and he didn’t have any and you were ’bout to get some…a lot…and this angered him…now…think real hard…where could I find this guy…

I don’t know…

you drink with him…

yeah…

where…

Danny’s…

he’ll be there…they always are…not enough sense to do what they need to do…and…he’ll talk…they do that too…he’s real proud of himself right now…

I’m sorry…

yeah well…like I said…this too shall pass…

in the corner stood nothing…not a chair…nor a table…no plants…just nothing…it was a bare meeting of two walls…cream colored…blank…it was that way in all four corners of his room…empty space…perhaps minimalistic…

he would often think of buying pictures to place on the walls…maybe paint them a color rather than the dull off-white that they were…thought of black and white photos to place in the corners…old pictures of beaten up Chevys…Fords…a pin up girl or two…someone like Jane Russell…Jane Russell rolling in the hay…he thought about that…

and then he thought he’d like ’em better blank…use the imagination to change the corners with his mind…one day dream of a plant with vines taking over the corners…and the next think of corn stalks growing all the way to the ceiling…he didn’t know…

the man just sat there in his room each day…letting his imagination run wild…felt like Max in, Where The Wild Things Are…

eventually he’d stop imagining…come to the realization that he was alone…we’re all alone…he thought…we’re all alone…he muttered this until he fell asleep…only to wake up the next morning all by himself…

he gave her this locket…a heart with a small picture of him inside…back when he was handsome and had hair that was jet black…thick…she used to like to run her hands through it as they’d lay there in bed on Sunday mornin’s with a homemade quilt wrapped ’round ’em…one pillow beneath both their heads…

and she was a ginger girl…had firey emerald eyes and the ability to laugh at whatever came their way…behind on bills…truck wouldn’t start…hardly any money…she’d just laugh…used to say…,Could be worse…could be dead…,then she’d twist her long auburn hair in a knot and smile…

but…there was always somethin’ ’bout him in question…didn’t have that good of a track record…lost a lot of jobs…he’d quit after only havin’ a couple of weeks under his belt…enough to get a paycheck…or…he’d get fired…then he’d take off for days at a time…not tellin’ her…or anyone else where he was headin’ to…sometimes it was north up to Nashville while other trips were taken south down to New Orleans…he lived on the wild side…

so…he gave her this locket…she’d open it when he was gone…look at his picture and remember when they’d lay in bed on Sunday mornin’s…she always knew he’d be back sooner or later…that is…she figured he’d be…

there was a while there when he didn’t come back…headed out west this time…out to New Mexico…Arizona…went as far as California…Indigo…Bakersfield….small towns and some cities like San Jose…he drove as far as that old truck would take him…until it wouldn’t run no more…died…

it had been months since she’d heard from him…but…he called one day…tellin’ her he was sorry this time…sayin’ it wouldn’t happen again…she laughed like she always did…combed the knots out of her hair…

she waited for him…and waited…she’s still waitin’ for him…guess she always will be…

he gave her this locket…a heart with a small picture of him inside…

he’s up again

roaming through halls

closing the bathroom door that squeaks

taking a shower at two in the morning

he’s up again

his feet drag on carpet outside my door

walking quickly up and down the staircase as trains go by and cop cars sound off with blue and red lights flashing in my windows

refrigerator hums

the door downstairs opens and closes as he lights up cigarettes on the patio and sucks them down one after another like he can’t get enough

and a wooden gate blows in the wind

my lamp is on and I see dust all over floors which have not been swept all winter long

the man is coughing downstairs

he’s having a fit

an ambulance goes by followed by another cop car

where is everyone going it’s two in the morning

are we waking in this hour for our deaths

he’s up again

I hear him running water in the kitchen

maybe he’s putting on a pot of tea

maybe he’s washing his hands

perhaps they’re dirty from a job he’s done in his room

his name’s Raphael and his soul hasn’t been cleansed in years

he’s up again

he’s up again

he’s up again

The billfold sat on the desk among clutter…various items lay there…some covered in dust while others were not…a coffeepot covered in dust…a gray film over books that lined the back of the work area…notes …appointments…thumb drives…an old pair of glasses with a screw missing from it…and that billfold…the brown leather billfold his dad gave him for Christmas one year back when he was younger…it was amazing the thing had lasted this long…

He looked through the wallet…an old almost expired Missouri drivers license was the first thing he saw…a picture of his round fat face and long black hair stared at him like a man from the past…that man was long gone…the black hair had now turned silver…his round face had thinned out a bit…behind the license was a New York State benefit card…again…that round face was looking back at him…this time without glasses…just a blank stare as if to say…gotcha….

There were various library cards inside the billfold…New York City…St. Louis…Cleveland…Newport, Kentucky…Fort Wayne, Indiana…which is where he currently lived…all those years of running ’round the country had come to this…Fort Wayne, Indiana…

As he looked through all the stuff inside…credit card receipts…old bus passes…a medicare card…debit card…old food stamp cards from different places he had lived… he started thinking about how this long trip across America had affected him…what it had done to his body and his soul…not nuch left of the body…the soul still had a life…he cried everytime John Coltrane’s Central Park West was played…that’s how he knew his spirit was still in tact…

Thought about all the walking he had done on highways hitchin’ rides…thought about all the busses he had taken when he had some money on him and the legs were weary…days spent in libraries all over…reading books…fighting sleep…remembered the homeless shelters and the drop in centers…all the breath tests for sobriety…bed bugs biting him…old blankets with dried blood stains on them…

He went through the billfold and saw three dollars inside…some things never change…still broke…always broke…but…cheer up…he thought…therfe’s a chance things could get better…things could always get better.

And for the last three years it had been better…stable place to live…medications on a regular basis…a monthly check from Uncle Sam…things were looking up…despite what the billfold said…he was on track now…and that kept him going…

he didn’t know what to say to her…she just appeared in front of him all grainy…grayish color…not quite white…

and she spoke of things from the past…their past…trips ‘cross country…holdin’ hands down by the Ohio River…eatin’ oysters in Mobile…said these things softly…he had to strain to hear her…

she asked if he still loved her…he nodded…he wanted to touch her but he couldn’t…

so…he sat there in bed…mesmerized by her presence…she said she’d help him through the tough parts…the sadness of bein’ alone…all he had to do was call out to her…just call her name…Jenny…just call out Jenny…said she’d be there in spirit…he’d know it was her by the way the room would smell…a certain song would be on the radio…the nights he’d get her recipes just right…he smiled…and like that she was gone…gone…

he fell back asleep…awoke in the mornin’ to a wonderful smell…Steely Dan on the radio…she was here…he thought…she was here…