dmseay

tired of all this…

this…

this…everywhere I go there is nothing but the same thing…

like…

work…always work to do…

yes…

and you have to do it…

don’t have to…

no choice in the matter

there’s a choice…

living for nothing more than the miserable existence of work…all types of work…unskilled…skilled…hourly wage…salary…why I’ve even been paid with sandwiches and a pint…and at the end of the day what does that get you…

a full belly…

nothing…gets you nothing…can’t save from that…what…you’re gonna put a piece of bologna in the bank…no…nothing…gets you nothing…it’s over rated I’d say…always looking for work…finding work and working til your body aches…til the mind is numb…a whole life dedicated to work…and at the end what are you given for your efforts…a small pension…401k’s to cash in…savings over the years from suffering and sacrifice…no sir…no sir…

so…you’d rather not work…

I’d prefer not to…

he timed himself reading…not for speed or to set a quick pace…just timed it out to see how long he could read ‘fore he lost train of thought…gave up interest completely…reading Cormac McCarthy’s, The Orchard Keeper, page after page…fascinated by his use of language…reading all the words…taking them in bit by bit…eating pieces of the book like you would a Sunday dinner…savoring it…

‘fore he knew it he’d spent an hour reading from the novel…now his mind was starting to wander…going off to places like Cave City, Arkansas…Lexington, Tennessee, Mount Juliet, there close to Nashville…small towns of his childhood…the South…where things moved slow and simple…never questioning the fear of God…or the saving grace of Jesus…we all knew the devil lived in the woods…back in the pines where creeks flowed over rocks and leaves crunched under our feet in October…

couldn’t get his mind off the South…or his childhood…Friday night football games with high school heroes such as Jimmy Jones at tailback…Claudias Goshen at tight end…Mark Surmack played quarterback…and his big brother Johnny was a lineman…he remembered all those players from way back in his youth…games against towns like Smackover…Camden…El Dorado…Huntington…thought of them all…the smells of fresh cut grass and fried pies coming from the concession stand…sponsored by the local Lion’s Club…

and he closed his eyes and took a nap…a long dreamlike state conjuring up images of girls from his past…his first kiss underneath bleachers when he was just in grade school…poppin’ open a beer he’d stolen from his daddy’s six pack…drinkin’ alone out in the darkness down an old dirt road…smoking cigarettes with friends at midnight in a packed car at the drive-in movies…some Burt Reynolds picture…

when he woke-up he realized those days were over..long gone and now there was nothing left in life but work and sleep…work and sleep…wished it was different…longed for something else…

so…he rolled over and went back to reading Cormac McCarthy…he’d always have that…

gotcha hair done…

I did…

looks real pretty…

sure she didn’t take too much off the bangs…

naw…I like it…look like ya back in high school…makes ya look young again…like you was some kind of homecoming queen…a cheerleader on the sidelines or somethin’…

oh stop…

naw honey..ya look good…good ‘nough to eatcha…a honey bun…that’s what you look like…a glazed over honey bun just drippin’ with sugar on it…I’ve always thought that ’bout ya…ever since we was kids…always wantin’ to kiss those lips of your’s…like you was some kinda movie star…

well…

but not here…wantin’ to take ya away to some magical place and make love to ya…we could drive ’round town…get some drinks…then maybe check into the Pine Haven Hotel out on the southside of town…get a special honeymoon suite…the kind with the heart shaped Jacuzzi in it…all them bubbles splashin’ ’round in…like we used to…just like we used to…

haven’t been there in years…not since we first got married…years ago…

and you could wear that cut-off tee-shirt you got…the white one with the arrow through the red heart…got the sparkles all over it…that’s all you best be wearin’…

just like we used to…

just like we used to…

did’ya ever wonder why people never talk to ya…don’t return phone calls…avoid ya in public places…did’ya ever wonder ’bout that…why it is people don’t look ya in the eye when you speak to ’em…why they just get up and walk away from ya at a swift pace…like they just seen a ghost or somethin’…some kinda spook from way back…you remind ’em of somethin’…somethin’ that affected ’em long long ago…could been ‘fore ya was born…might’ve been an abusive parent or mean old grand dad…maybe a grade school bully that beat ’em up every day and took their lunch money…a boy who broke their hearts…just somethin’ ’bout ya…don’t know what it is…but…it’s scarey to people…they look at ya and run…some kinda Frankenstein monster…half human half beast…placed on earth to just roam ’round and frighten people…you ever think ’bout that…why that is…

your daddy was that way…people used to run from him…he was smaller than you…only five ten…but…he weighed three hundred pounds…just this big fat man walkin’ down the street…eatin’ candy bars…hot dogs…was always eatin’ somethin’…and he had a real serious look on his face…the kinda look that made people think twice…is he crazy or just plain mean…that’s what people thought…that’s what they think ’bout you…

and I wish I could tell ya differently…wish I could tell ya that people looked forward to seein’ ya…wanted to make your acquaintance…but that’s not the case now is it…

here I am talkin’ to ya…in this room…just the two of us…and you’re not sayin’ a word…sittin’ there all quiet…now you’re the one that’s scared…maybe you been afraid all your life…have ya…you can tell me…

what made ya pull that trigger…you had the money…that poor boy behind the counter…he’s got a family ya know…workin’ on Christmas day…killed over what…a pack of Camels and a little dough…I seen the whole thing on the video tape…I see the unreal on video tape all the time…show up at crime scenes with blood everywhere…brains splattered on a wall…this is nothin’ new…

and does it bother me…I s’pose…

A sliver of the Moon shone down ‘cross the land…wet grass glowed and golden leaves flew over lawn furniture…picnic table…a child’s swing-set…November had taken over…

And out in the beaten down barn where splinters would tear your hands upon touch…we sat there passin’ the bottle back and forth…two brothers…like in the old days…when we were kids with whiskey stolen from our dad’s liquor cabinet…talkin’ ’bout girls…football…cars…and more talk ’bout girls…

We’d talk ’bout what made ’em different from us…their bodies curved…hand-carved by God himself…what it was like to kiss one of ’em…hold ’em…talk to ’em…they sure had a different view of the world…one we didn’t quite understand…dealin’ with the emotional over the physical…talk of how they were smarter than us…they’d always be smarter than us…

So…we’d pass the bottle back and forth til it ran dry…talkin’ ’bout ex-wives…former lovers…girls we saw on the side…how nothin’ seemed to work anymore…our bodies gettin’ old…worn down…not even lookin’ anymore when a woman walked into a room…sad how life changes ya…

We walked inside the empty farm house…place where we were raised…daddy used to sit in that corner rockin’ back and forth while momma made dinner….old smells came to us…buttered cornbread…slow cooked hamhocks in pinto beans…fried okra…we’d fight over who got the last bite…then laugh when pop put his fork down…declarin’ the last piece to be his…nobody argued…

It was understood back then that we had our place…mom was queen of the house and dad was king…what they said went down as if the Lord himself was talkin’…they gave orders…we listened…

And we still listen to ’em…gone for years now…we can still hear their voices throughout the night…tellin’ us what not to do…giving us directions…talkin’ to us from Heaven…my dad sayin’, Boy…I know you stole my whiskey…, while momma just hums along…she just hums along…

saw her in the light…standin’ there…like she was waitin’ on some man to come along and sweep her off her feet…some tall handsome man…with plenty of cash to burn…make her laugh…feel good for a change…could tell it’d been awhile since she felt good…felt like she was worth somethin’…

she just stood there…short form fittin’ dress on…colored red…went well with her long jet black hair…had pearls on too…maybe they were fake…

and I noticed men gawkin’ at her as they walked by with their wives…givin’ her a good once over up and down…lookin’ at her like they had no sense…just some fools with their tongues waggin’…like a bunch of dogs set out on the wild…

with each man that passed she gave a glare…a real hateful glare as if to say…,you picked the wrong girl…,her green eyes pierced…

saw her in the light…standin’ there…like she was waitin’ on some man to come and sweep her off her feet…

I went lookin’ for you…out in the woods where we used to play hide and go seek as children…behind tall trees with thick trunks…piles of leaves left from long ago…aged and brown…

looked down by the brook that runs over rocks and sandy pebbles…down ’round a cave filled with bats and green snakes…Sun goin’ down…mischief ’bout to start…

and so I looked for you amongst the pines…oaks…and maples…listened to whipperwails and cicadas…a hoot owl hummed along…

this was the place where our imaginations went wild…playing war in the woods with walkee-talkees and toy guns…fightin’ the communists in Vietnam…headin’ north into Cambodia in search of Pol Pot…bein’ captured by yellow men and then escapin’ in the middle of the night like real American heroes…real American heroes…

started lookin’ for you at Sunrise and when the Moon came up we pulled out flashlights and weaved our way through mud and wet grass…led by a ray like when we were kids and had sleepovers in the backyard…playin’ tag in the midnight hour…tellin’ each other shhhh…don’t wake up the parents…and we’d laugh and laugh and laugh…never stop laughin’…

I looked for you…for twenty-four hours I looked for you…didn’t wanna give up the search…but it dawned on me…

you were gone…

some men you can’t pray for…just nothin’ you can do with ’em…gonna be mean and heartless regardless…they’d just as soon kill ya as to look at ya…shoot ya over a buck-twenty -five left on your food stamp card…these men don’t care no more…don’t think they ever did…

and you can find’em in the Bronx…or Chicago…hell…you could find ’em in Lexington, Tennessee…or out in leafy green suburbs where children play on swing-sets and slides…moms makin’ dinners…cheerleadin’ practice over at six…

these are just mean men…born into this world with a lousy temperment…no patience…an arrogance ’bout ’em…usually bored with life…see the cup half empty types…not the kinda men you’d have over after church for fried chicken and cornbread…and don’t you dare look ’em in the eye…

they’re drifters…nomads…goin’ from town to town committin’ crimes and leavin’ at a moment’s notice…comin’ and goin’ whenever it suits ’em…holdin’ up liquor stores…shootin’ gas station attendents…buryin’ bodies out in the woods…

most of these men never had a wife…or any kind of family…never knew what it was to love somethin’…truly love somethin’…somehow that aspect of life escaped ’em…

and they’ll wander the rest of their days…like packs of wild animals…hoppin’ trains…thumbin’ down rides…walkin’ from one town to the next…livin’ in homeless shelters…under bridges…camped out in parks…spendin’ nights in county jails…they don’t care…they don’t care…

some men you can’t pray for…

she said, I’ll do whatever you want for a can of beer…I’ll give you anything, for a can of beer…fulfill your wildest desires…your craziest ideas…any fantasy you have, for a can of beer…

she looked at me with hollow eyes…licked her thin lips…ran bony fingers through piles of black hair…

come on baby, she teased…,I’ll give you the ride of a lifetime…do things to you that no other girl has ever done…I’ll make you feel like a man again…how long’s it been…huh…since you felt like a man…,said with a wink…

and she took my hand and led me ‘cross the street to the liquor store where there were these Japanese people speaking in foriegn tongues…looking at us…the whore and her john…giggling…pointing…at us as we perused the cold beer coolers…Lite…Budweiser…Coors…Colt 45…she chose a 40 ounce of Black Label for a buck…placing her hairy arm intertwined with mine…strolling to the front counter like two vagabonds in Paris…two bums in Montreal…

I pulled old gum wrappers out…nickels and dimes with some pennies thrown in and placed it all on the counter where the Asian woman at the register counted the money hungrily…just enough…

and the whore guzzled down beer in one long drink…then another swig…and another til it was all gone…letting out a long belch and a wipe of her pink mouth…

what’dya want…,she cried…,everybody wants somethin’…what is it you need…,her hands placed on my pants…come on, she pleaded…,tell me…your wish is my command…

I held her two frail hands and led her to a park where swings blew in the wind…and birds chirped a song…and I said to her as my request…,talk…I just want to talk…,she smiled…placed the brown bottle on the ground and kissed me on the lips…,alright…she said…,alright…

we spoke of past loves…the one’s that broke our hearts…she told me ’bout her kids in Ottawa…’bout how she gave ’em up…how she used to cry at night…how the heart hardens…

she stood up and looked at me with faraway eyes…kissed her hand and placed it on my forehead…did not say another word…just smiled…just smiled…

and then she was gone…

he’s home…

home…

yeah…got in ’round ten o’clock…had the porch light on like I do every night…sat here in the front room waitin’ on him like I do every night..and…he just appeared…didn’t even knock on the door…just walked right in…like nothin’s transpired over the last month…like he was comin’ home from work…

did’ya ask him where he’d been…

no…I could tell he didn’t want to talk…real silent…like he’d seen somethin’…a ghost…somethin’ spooked him… I could tell…he just sat there in the Lazy-boy not sayin’ a word…quiet as can be…didn’t ask how I was…or how anybody was…didn’t look in the refrigerator for a beer…had nothin’ to eat…just sat there like he was worn out and tired from somethin’ horrific…

didn’t say a word huh…nothin’…

nothin’…tried to look in his eyes…couldn’t get a read on him…his hands were tremblin’ just a bit…hair was all messed up…came back with nothin’…nothin’ but the shirt on his back…boots had seen better days…had holes in the bottoms of ’em…saw ’em when he put his feet up on the stool. those soles were thin…

my oh my…nothin’ to say…that’s a first…

ain’t it though…’fore he left he’d talk a mile a minute…tell ya all sorts of things ’bout his life…plans he had…girlfriends…talk all kinds of sports…tell ya ’bout some buck he’d shot last Fall…but no…nothin’….somethin’ tells me he’s gonna be like this for awhile…somethin’ happened to him out there…he might not ever be the same…

thnk maybe he needs some help…

what kinda help…

professional help…check and see if his head’s on right…

he might…he just might…never seen him like this ‘fore…a walkin’ zombie…that’s what he is…a walkin’ zombie…