dmseay

The sun used to come up at eight…it’d be dark up until that time…I’d lay in bed and wait for its first glimmer of light…exposing the neighborhood for what it is…debris on the ground around dumpsters in alleyways…boarded up houses…cars up on concrete blocks with tires removed…broken windshields…bare trees…leaves missing from autumn’s death march…at first the season shows beauty and romance only to be followed by cold and reminders of what has been in the past…winter sends greetings…

Today there was hope at twenty after seven…an old man was sweeping his front porch in early morning brightness…kids were skipping to the bus stop…a mom cried out…,You forgot your lunch money…,the chubby child dashed back home to be kissed on the forehead and be sent back on his way…

Soon green will come and this brown will be gone for awhile…awhile…death leaves us for a period of time only to return…we run through spring as if we were carefree lovers…old become young again…songs being hummed as we walk through Foster Park…winter’s woes gone…

But cars are still up on blocks…houses boarded up…trash around dumpsters…broken bottles…chicken bones…a mangy dog roams the streets…yet there is a solitude in the evening breeze…before cop cars sound their sirens and ambulances carry victims away…these are midnight sounds…rhythms of summer…we wait for fall…back to beauty before death…

And another year has passed….

You’re always talkin’ ’bout some long lost love that left ya behind…some woman who broke your heart into pieces…and ya did what…went back to her time and time again…like a bad habit you couldn’t put down…kept inhailing her…that woman’s scent drove ya crazy…crazy enough for ya to chase her all over the country…she’d be dancin’ in some club out in Denver and you’d be in Denver…shakin’ it up in New York…Buffalo I believe it was…up on the Canadian border…over by Niagra Falls on the American side…you’d be there tippin’ her the whole time…talkin’ to her…tellin’ her to come back home…sayin’ you’d changed and makin’ promises ya couldn’t keep…she was wise to ya…the whole time she was wise to ya…

So…you left your family for her…wife and kids…over what…some dancer with hips…gyrations and manipulations…in the old days we used to call ’em strippers…women you wouldn’t bring home for Sunday dinner…tip ’em enough and you could have a tryst in some cheap hotel by an interstate…a Red Roof Inn…Motel 6…somethin’ like that with a coffee pot in every room…curlin’ iron on the table next to it…tubes of lipstick and false eye lashes…that’s what you left your family for…

There’s some kind of lust inside of ya…listenin’…yeah I’ll bet you are…is it the booze that does this to ya…some kind of magic potion that weaves in side of ya…cheap whiskey and cases of beer kept in a cooler…back seat of a car…pullin’ out one at a time as ya drive down the highway lookin’ for her…livin’ off credit cards…some insanity has taken over…some kind of obsession…it’s time you left it behind…come home…start workin’ again…be a sober member of society…I don’t mean to be preachin’ at ya…just think you’d be better off…

Last time I talked to ya you were in Cinci…contemplatin’ the Ohio River…it’s width and length…how it twisted through states…and you said it was different from the big mighty muddy Mississippi…said it was more interesting…like you were comparin’ women…one took ya one way and the other another…ya thought ’bout jumpin’ in that river…that’s what your life had come to…she’d driven ya to that point…that kind of craziness…kind that eats away your soul…maybe she’s not out there anymore…ever thought of that…maybe she’s gone…ever think of that…maybe she’s gone…

Hell…ya do what ya want…I’m just sayin’ your time’s gonna be up soon…yeah it’ll be up…just face facts…ya can only chase a broad for so long…it’ll wear ya out…I think she’s done her damage…time to come home…come home…

They’d sit ’round and watch re-runs of old television shows…Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom…Johnny Carson…The Dean Martin Celebrity Roast…Barnaby Jones…all hours of the night and into early mornin’…passin’ a joint back and forth with swigs of whisky inbetween…occasional trips to the fridge for ice cream…week old pizza…frozen burritos they cooked in the microwave…chewin’ on pieces of American cheese…

And this went on for weeks…sleepin’ durin’ the day…wakin’ and bakin’…walkin’ ’round an old dusty house out on a gravel road by the railroad tracks just laughin’ their fool heads off…at the least little things…passages from, Zen And The Art Of Motorcylce Maintenance…cicadas hummin’ along in the evenin’ hours…sometimes gettin’ interspective with Pink Floyd’s, Dark side Of The Moon album…old records played on a turntable…they’d stand over it and watch ’em spin…

But…they loved each other…used to get stoned under the bleechers at high school football games…go out to the lake and make out for hours back then in an old Ford Fairmont…her long straight blonde hair would get caught in the seatbelt while he fumbled ’round with her bra strap…radio turned on…Art Bell talkin’ crazy talk conspiracies…for some reason they liked doin’ it to the voice of Art Bell…they’d hear that man talkin’ and immediately jump in the back seat…it really didn’t take much…

Now they were together forever…just getin’ stoned and watchin’ tv…pretty much the life they chose…never aspired for greatness…just two hoosiers livin’ life one day at a time…

The queen sized bottom sheet had a tear in it…blue threads dangled at the bottom of the bed…as nights went on the hole got bigger and bigger til it ran up to the middle…the heart of the bed which was damaged from the weight of two bodies there at one time…now only one lay there at night…creating a dip…he could feel springs coming up into his sides…always had…just a little when the couple first moved-into the rented sleeping room on Broadway down by the liquor store and Danny’s Bar and Grill…it was home for two lovers for the time being…kept ’em off the streets…

And the blanket had holes in it too…a quilt made by his great aunt who lived down in Texas long long time ago…the family was from Dallas and migrated north to the Midwest taking job after job to make ends meet…seemed like they just barely made enough to survive…like father like son…

So…he took some silver Duck tape and stretched it across the sheet and the cover…for some reason he couldn’t just go to the thrift store and buy more…he wanted to keep ’em…she laid on this bed…these holes were created by them…kinda like their children or somethin’…she’d left him with holes…

One night he had a dream ’bout her…she was there in the room with him…watching him sleep…like a spirit or a spook…but she was comforting…kissing him on the forehead as he lay there…the blonde haired banshee stroked his forehead and whispered…, I’m sorry honey…sorry…,then she magically ran her right hand over the bed…she kissed his lips and took off into the night…

He woke up startled…the holes were gone…

He’d look at his watch every fifteen minutes as he waited on the bus to take him ‘cross town…cold and rainy…cars splashin’ him as they drove by on State Street…some seemed as though they hit the puddles on purpose…just to watch his displeasure in the rear view mirror as they sped through yellow lights…

On the corner he stood there with the rest of the crazies…people mumbling to themselves ’bout the Lord Jesus Christ comin’ back to town…guys smoking cigarette butts picked out of trash cans…on sidewalks and kept in a old package marked Viceroy…fat ladies with thick ankles staring into space…all waiting on the second coming of the bus…

And a young black kid with headphones on was spouting off lyrics to some rap song…talkin ’bout bitches and hoes…bitches and hoes…can’t trust bitches and hoes…he looked at his watch again…time was not moving fast…

All of this going on around him in front of the mental health clinic…making him wonder if he was truly a part of this community…he spoke to himself…had suicidal thoughts…took his meds that didn’t work…couldn’t hold down a job…he looked at his watch again…

He looked normal…as normal as a crazy person can…maybe that was the most frustrating thing of all…to look like something you’re not…normal…

Then again…what was normal anyway…

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…