dmseay

what’s this yelling…
down the alleyway…
loud…
two voices…
cursing each other…
they won’t stop…

and here I sit…
watching…
a deal gone bad…
neither’s backing down…
cop cars cruise by…
too cold to bother with…

it’s cloudy…
no Sun…
these two are still yelling…
threats are made…
here come the cops again…
these negotiations are delicate…

no-body move…
they split in opposite directions…
sirens go-off…
I lose track of all this…
too much pressure…
maybe next time there’ll be a conclusion…

dust everywhere in this room…
old books lined in dust…
whiskey bottle covered in dust…
writer’s table no longer used…

and the floor is filled with dust…
coffee cups turned upside down…
dirty bowls in need of cleaning…
run your fingers over the desk…

the lampshade lets off dust…
this life is dust…
just as i am…
just as i am…

empty cars sit outside my window…
old beaters with rust and dust…
been there for years…
Pinto…Taurus…an Astro van…
some with wheels…some without…

and the electrical wires swoop down just above them…
a pair of tennis shoes hangs in the air…
some soaked sweater on the ground…
letting us know winter is over…

the birds are flying north again…
home to summer…
I’m not going anywhere..

she always complained of bein’ cold…never warm ‘nough for her…hours she’d just lay back in that Lazy-Boy shiverin’…sleepin’ ‘casionally…mumblin’ incoherently…always bringin’ up the past…never heard her talk of the present or the future…every sentence’d start with…,Do you remember the time…., then she’d go into some mumbled diatribe ’bout Malvern…talkin’ just to hear herself talk…she wondered if she were really alive…or if it was all just one big dream…

and she never went outside…big Sun settin’ in the Southwestern sky and she’d be curled-up in that Lazy-Boy…snorin’ in between words spoke by Pat Sajak as he’d spin that wheel for one last try at hope…a vacation getaway…new car…somethin’ to wish for…

then one day she was just gone…the Lazy-Boy was empty…t.v. was off…nobody saw her leave…or walk…didn’t see her float off to the great beyond…she was just gone…disappeared…leavin’ behind nothin’ but that recliner…we put it out in the garage…’case she come back…

his body was wiped out…
hadn’t eaten for days…
just drinkin’ orange juice….
pop a Pringle in his mouth…
small honey bun…

and he stayed up in that room…
lookin’ down below…
dumpsters picked by men in midnight hours…
skinny women runnin’ into abandoned buildings…
a tricycle in the alleyway…

yes…night time was quiet…
the hum of a motorbike…
cop cars and ambulances…
no guns goin’ off yet…
Summer will be here soon…

his body was wiped out…
hadn’t eaten for days…

the bus is always filled with desperate people…wanting to run from something…needing to run to something…escape is on their minds…

gotta get away from the old lady…,the Mexican sitting next to me said…,just too toxic…too toxic…,i nodded…,she starts drinkin’ then I start drinkin’…we don’t know when to stop…she takes a swing at me…I swing at her…it’s that Russian blood in her man…that Russian blood…

he said he was goin’ out to Iowa to stay with his mom for awhile…get some peace…called her from Ohio…asked if there was a bar close to the house…grinned…,back in business…,he said…,back in business…

she told me she just gotta little blue sometimes…depressed…,shook his head…,didn’t tell me ’bout the wild mood swings…how crazy she got when she had that vodka…things got crazy man…crazy…

just last week we celebrated seven years together…,he laughed…,took her to this casino above the falls…had a great time…for awhile…for awhile…then just outta the blue she sucker punches me…I’d had enough…had enough…

so…you’re runnin’ to Iowa…

yeah…runnin’ to Iowa…try my luck there…stay away from them Russians…there always up to no good…

we talked for hours that night…wasn’t a moment of silence…just two people gabbin’ away ’bout their lives…kids…ex-husbands…past lovers…talk of nothin’ on the horizon…lonely nights…lives that never got caught up…always behind…

she talked of this want…this need in her life to be needed…to be the one again…someone’s true love…said she hadn’t felt that in a long time…said it’d make her whole…put her back in touch with herself…she’d drifted for so long…

and I listened…comparin’ notes…thinkin’ ’bout a girl who’d gotten away years ago…a high school sweetheart that had left me for other opportunities…or did I leave her…we all leave sooner or later…one way or another…one way or another…

we kissed that night…at the end when there was nothin’ left to say…we kissed…two lonely people who’d found someone that listened…how rare is that…how rare is that…no promises made…no bold statements…just two people that shared with each other…yes indeed…how rare is that…

he was this kinda genius…didn’t know it…could answer any question you had…’bout anything…take an engine apart and put it back together blindfolded…tell each part by the feel of it in his hands…knew a spark plug was bad just by the smell of it…like he had a secondary sense ’bout him…

he’d take these slapped together cars and race ’em out on the turnpike in the early mornin’ darkness…old Chevys and beat-up Fords…Chryslers he’d stripped down clean…even had a couple of VW’s…loved watchin’ old Herbie The Love Bug movies with Dean Jones…one of his heroes…

had these dreams of bein’ a real success one day…not havin’ to lift a finger for another fella’…just work for himself…fixin’ cars…racin’…travelin’ ’round the world like Herbie…that’s what he wanted…that’s what he wanted…

never left Johnson City…spent his days workin’ for the man…all his paychecks spent on car parts and Pampers…couple of kids came his way…seemed to drift his dreams back a bit…quite a bit…to where there weren’t any dreams at all anymore…just thoughts…just thoughts…

would’ve could’ve should’ve…danced ’round his head at night…would’ve could’ve should’ve…choices we make…

i’d stay up all night listenin’ to rain…
drops of water softly hittin’ windows…
as trains wailed into darkness…
hum of motors in streets below…
a symphony really…

cop cars carryin’ criminals to holdin’ tanks…
ambulances vainly driving the dead down county roads…
wishes for more time…wishes for more time…
helicopters fly over a sleepin’ citizenry…
dreams keep ’em safe…

this darkness…
not a star in the sky…
just lights reflected off buildings…
oranges and yellows…oranges and yellows…
alone never felt so alone…

i’d stay up all night listenin’ to rain…

i am now that old man on the bus…lone traveler…seeing america ‘gain…gray hair greased back…mumbling what might’ve been…to myself…myself…

roads taken…choices…t’was choices…a search for what…for what…gold…riches…comfort…no…never did i seek…never…

mine was to run…not to be kept…placed on a shelf…left there with bankers and insurance salesmen…i ran…from america i ran…watching from a far…this race of fools…fools…seeking solace in shopping mall madness…the celebration of a parking space…it doesn’t take much…

no…these journeys in this land…were for love…the constant search for love…a lifetime spent chasing voices…whiskey voices down highways at midnight as years gone by…they’ve gone by…

and i’ve had love…tasted this wine that others have only dreamed of… ginger and emerald…ginger and emerald…never ‘fore has the cup been so sweet…am i dreaming…dreaming…

i am now that old man on the bus…lone traveler…seeing america ‘gain…