I need to do this lady

"I am getting to drunk to drive home, can you help?" says the lady sitting next to me at the bar.
A slightly classy joint, where they have replaced live musicians with a mellow sound system that has a great mix of mellow jazz, Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, and Tony Bennett.

Looking for small talk, she sees on the TV above the bar, a show about golf lessons and asks me "What are they doing?" as she scoots a little closer to me.

I reply "it is a golf lesson, and yes he is really hitting the ball, but it goes into a net, and a giant projection screen makes it look like he is on an actual golf course"

She makes a joke that is funny only to her, and gently touches my leg.

We make small talk, and she is looking at me intently, and twirling her hair with her fingers. She rocks and laughs and touches me again, and again, and again.

In conversation I can see that she is truly one of those stupid, inexperienced people that has used her firm smooth body, cleavage, and perfect lips to get what she needs in life.

Some more TV watching, comments on music, and small-talk about movies. Some time passes and she makes the statement again "I am getting to drunk to drive myself home"

I look and see no evidence of a wedding ring, even when you take one off there is a tell-tale indentation or a subconscious touching of what is no longer there.

During the minutes that pass I see she is not drinking that much, well not drinking as much as a person "to drunk to drive" would drink. The conversation goes to the deal she got two meals for the price of one, and tells me she is between jobs.

Seems to me asking a stranger to drive you home is an invite to have one night of shallow intimacy.

So wanting to keep conversation going I ask her "What brings you to this restaurant's bar in this part of the city tonight?"

She said "She had dropped her son off at the gym around the corner, and while he is working out she decided to come here." Which totally contradicted all of the signals I had been reading. One night stands and children don't go together.

I feigning interest asked "Oh and how old is he?"

She answered "He just turned 18 yesterday, yeah he is not my little boy any more."

With that she ordered another glass of white house wine, and while sipping looked straight ahead at the meaninglessness of all the alcohol bottles lined up so perfectly in front of the huge mirror.

As I looked at her beauty, my eyes gravitated toward her face as she sipped her wine, and saw her as her, not as one night of meaningless intimacy.

She is lonely, and so desperately wants someone in her life.

Her little boy is turning into an independent man, and will be leaving her soon. She has nothing left in her life, no career to push out the lonely feelings, no person to come home to, no one to be home for.

She feels a loneliness so deep, so debilitating.

Not knowing which way to turn, she tries what worked almost 19 years ago.

Silence

he always wanted more out of life than his parents could offer him.

so as a teen he stayed in shape strong, flexible, no extra fat

he needed to be prepared for his future

although he did not know what that would be.

high school years were normal, well normal for high school

experimenting with different people

looking for different highs

trying to avoid his parents

he really liked movies and saw where money could fall from the sky

he was a mediocre actor

but took drama all years of high school

and was even in a few plays

once he had the lead role,

he liked the attention that gave him,

he liked pretending to be something he knew inside he was not.

he acted the leading man

strong

secure

a person that liked, loved and respected himself.

but he was none of those things

he was young and strong and fit

a beauty, handsome

anyone seeing him would think so,

a swimmers physique, is how one described him, although he did not go into sports.

lost at 18

high school over

parents divorced

no money

no prospects

he thought about how to get out of the place he was in

bouncing from parent to parent as they tired of his moods

he really liked acting, but the one thing his parents Could agree upon, was that he could never make it into the movies. He would scream back how wrong they were, that he would make it big and they would be sorry for trying to crush his future.

he stopped talking to both of them and moved out of their little town to find success

he tried,

auditioned

pleaded

practiced

and found nothing,

and then one night while he was trolling the internet for escape

he realized exactly what he should do

he saw a small movie company in his area and he applied,

his good looks and youth were all they needed.

for very little they paid him a lot

so he went back

they asked him for more and he gave it uneasily but they paid him very well

so he went back

having pushed him this far they pushed him the rest of the way too his future

a future of acting

a future of lots of money

and it was his dad that stumbled on to one of his movies,

who then told his ex-wife his acting was not all that good, not bad, but not great

but he was very beautiful on the screen

and she said well did you bring the movie with you, I only get an occasional "I'm alive mom" he didn't tell me he was in a movie.

and the father said, " I don't think you will want to see this one, I know I did not"

and she said "well no matter how bad it is, its still our son, we should be proud"

and the father sat there looking at his ex-wife thinking of their little boy, and the childhood, the messy divorce, the infidelity,

and after a long silence the man had the look of extreme sorry, and shame

and inhaled deeply

and exhaled long and slow

and the father said "our son is the star of a gay porno..."

Write

and here to be with himself the lost one stays distant

not present

dissociated

displaced

distant from the beauty so close and all around.

the happy energy

the beautiful skies

the kids playing

the grass, still green.

the leaves of bright crimson and reds and yellows

hiding from the pain of loss.

Oblivious to the humor of a woman in incredibly high heals trying to walk down a very steep hill while trying to control a baby stroller.

He stays inside his cell phone

texting

sending pictures and movies of only scenery, with no one in frame, no candid shots.

the good is since he is alone, he doesn't have to ask a stranger "can you please take a picture of US in front of this railing?"

with no one else to text, the flat lifeless boring pictures, he slowly becomes aware.

aware of the beauty

aware of the humans taking a moment to enjoy life.

aware of his own pain

he seeks escape, but there is none.

so he must face himself and write.

One of the Regulars

At the main yuppie shopping drag sits me, one of the regular observers to the hustle and window shopping, searching for my next reality.

I sit outside by the, little, local coffee shop, they have several blends that are very good. With all them damn Starbucks around, all the really good coffee shops are disappearing.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "THIS is the BEST STREET, I LOVE it here, you will NEVER find me at a Starbucks, I'd rather be dead with a splitting headache than even sit outside a Starbucks. Starbucks is SHIT.

The people on the street shopping, make the street a community of safety. Old houses turned into quaint little shops and restaurants. People walking, saying hi, dogs on leashes, kids being kids. There is no other word, other than "community" to describe the feeling. Those big shopping centers where all stores are massive cross-country exactness - each one is the same, people crammed together inside, no one smiling.

I'll tell you and everyone that asks "this street is COMMUNITY, DOGS, KIDS and SHOPPERS, you will NEVER find me INSIDE one of those huge shopping centers, where SORRY losers shop"

On the street you have other regulars like,

The kids that bang on overturned plastic tubs to make some cash for their mom,

Over there is the flute player, with his hat turned upward on the side walk with hopes he will play in a concert hall one day.
The "rasta man" is set up with his trinkets for sale and peace and love all around.

And next to me, ever wareful of the local police, the lady with no legs selling her roses for $5 each.

"Not a bad markup" I say to her.

She just grunts back looking up and down the street, calculating the best place to be, yet a place to push her electric buttons to get her out of sight of the local cops.

"so do you live in the neighborhood, or do you need to travel far?" I continue with the one sided conversation.

She says nothing.

"listen girly, just because you aint got no legs aint no reason to be high-hattin me" I said to her.

With that comment the Rasta-Man comes over and spouts out his "hey man there is too much negative energy, that is your fellow human, can't you find any love in your heart for her?"

I yell "this street is for all,... NEVER get INSIDE my space man, you Rasta-man freak", then I look to the girl and yell at her "hey girly, do you care that I call you girly"

Then I grunt at her.

She still sits there and says nothing,

but the Rasta-man can't leave well enough alone and eggs me on.

So I yell "Rasta why don't you go to Starbucks and drink their SHIT"

I take a deep inhale

Spit on the ground

and continue yelling "this is the BEST STREET just and leave us"

Then I whisper "hey girly, sorry, sorry." The no response forces me to yell, "SORRY, girly I said SORRY"

Then the Flute player hearing me apologize to the wheel chair lady, comes over to see if I wanted to hear any song I say "THANKS man, this is the bests street.

Community that what it is, there aint NEVER a better place than THIS STREET. Them Stupid malls and the SHIT Starbucks got nothing on THIS STREET right here. Where people care and it is a COMMUNITY!"

Then the boys come on over to keep the beat for the flute player, I say "you are just KIDS,... little. I am SORRY, SORRY I said SHIT and all that crap, but sometimes the others gets INSIDE me and I just gotta Yell. I LOVE this STREET so much.

Then all of a sudden that no legged freak disappears, as does all the other peddlers, and I look up and see a young man walking over to me, SHIT, I think to myself cops,.. I LOVE this STREET and don't want to be locked up INSIDE some hole, but he is not wearing a real cop uniform.

he asked me "hey old man, where are we?"

I respond "We are here you punk KID, on this STREET with the row of stores, most of which I remember when I was a kid, they were houses. Now they all gone,.. and just people and stores and concrete."

"Do you know who am I?" the stranger said.

I replied "you don't look familiar, you the grandson of one of my dead friends or something?"

"no sir, i don't believe my granddad knew you" the stranger said and continued

Then I looked real hard to see if I could recognize him from somehwere and then I said "It looks like you are wearing one of those uniforms you get at the halloween shop, its not Halloween, what the hell you wearing that for?"

The stranger said "It is a real uniform, sir, I am part of the mall security and the manager of the Starbucks called us, with a complaint that you were yelling and talking to yourself and it is scaring the shoppers"

Saturday night

Satuday night

at the end of my day with tea and toast

thinking of the horrors I chose Not to do today.

I sip slowly sipping, thinking of the so many times today I did the right thing, the expected thing.

At work I was cordial and helpful, energetic and happy

- and wondered if a co-worker's incessant chatter would stop if I threw a computer monitor at him.




I held the door for the old lady and her grandson,

- and wondered what she would do if I knocked the kid on his ass

I waved on the idiot that doesn't know the rules of a 4-way stop

- and wondered what he would do if I T-boned his car.

I went shopping at the orange-box hardware store,

- and wondered what they would do If I walked right past the cashiers and went out the door with my partially fill shopping cart.

I bought a box of girl scout cookies,
- and I wondered what her self-esteem would do if I told her that her girl scout vest looks stupid.

I got into my car,

- and wondered what the person next to me would do if I slammed my door into his car.

I saw a really beautiful person,

-and wondered if they'd enjoy me grabbing their ass as much as I would.

I let the cat out,

-and I wondered if it would be eaten by something tonight.

as I get into my jammies,

- and I wonder how many adults call them jammies

so on this saturday night I sit thinking of the horrors I did Not unleash upon society,

-and i wonder why didn't I....?

thanks nick

tormented by myself there is no escape.

rage so strong
hurt so deep

and I die a little more every day I think of you,

and,...

I think of you Every day,

you haunt my dreams

you monopolize my thoughts

triggers of rage and disgust and regret and hurt at even the slightest scent reminiscent of you.

and my life is torment with no escape.

if only

if only

if only i could torture you the way the thought of you,

is,

to me,

pure anguish.

but I must live with the fact that there is no death slow enough that would fill the abyss you left inside me.

spencer

he is gone
some heart ache now, protects from heartache in the future

its for the best
we lie to ourselves,
he did not suffer

the mind protects itself from the horror
that is what we say when we see a smaller animal being ripped to shreds by a larger predator.

but we don't know,
so our mind protects itself from the horror

the thought that the smaller animal felt every bite,
felt the crushing power of jaws around its little body

"its for the best,"
"its life"
"he really didn't suffer"
it must have been quick

took only but 60 seconds,

and we forget that time slows down when we are in full adrenalin crisis.
as it must be for the small animal being killed by the larger one.

60 seconds must be an eternity to the one dying, fighting, ... for its life.

and so "its for the best, "
"he was the weakest one"
"its nature's way"
the dog did not mean to kill my cat
it was an accident

it must have been quick, I was gone for a short few minutes

and my mind feels the heartache of loss and protects itself from the horror of death to a pet so well loved, killed by another pet so well loved.

Hope?

and the shadow of a man stands
he stand alone

stuck in his his own mind all he sees is horror, sin, guilt, despair

gray skies convince him of his
uselessness
pointless-ness
this miserable moment in time called life, he calls it existance

barely hanging on, he looks forward only to the sin

such a strong word 'sin'

a word that can't truly exists,
.... unless,
unless, ..
he truly believes in a God.


a God that created good,


a God that created life,


a God that created Sin
and with it created,...
guilt
obsession
betrayal
hatred
the irrational people
the narrow minded
the judgmental

Internal confusion for the man that stands alone.

his friend say "trust in the Lord",
but he knows all too well that if he confessed his sin's these same friends would
shun him
exile him
judge him
gossip about
fake smiles, while vomiting inside, when they next they see each other.

no help for the man that stands alone.

"you'll feel better if you talk about it" says his other friends

There is truth in that, but the consequences of betrayal too great, he says nothing.

and the shouldn't have's and the should have's bombard his soul;
"I should not have ever started", "I should have stopped" are the things he says to himself over and over and over. useless thoughts that will not help him with the sin in his life.

"sin" such a strong word and backed by an all powerful God,

There is no hope for the man who stands alone that has his heart scared by sin.

bad music

And as I walk in the parking lot this rattling assaults my ears

loud

Over Booming Bass
Rattles emanating from a car parked

No way to avoid it I must walk closer to the noise and I find that each of my steps matches the over-amplified thump coming from that car.

I think to myself that it must be some punk-teenager thinking that he is making the world a better lace by sharing his shit music, and willing to fight you to prove it.

Or maybe it is some gang-banger, that wants people to look at him so he can glare back with the vile and evil look of a deranged homicidal killer.

Or maybe it is some kid from the ghetto trying to compete with the middle class that come to this shopping center, angry at his own misfortune.

Finally I am close enough and can't help but look,...

Look at the car to see who parks and has the intense selfishness necessary to pollute the air with this crap for music, played on a sound system that would distort a simple middle-C on a piano.

And to my absolute surprise I see no anger or threat, nor do I see selfishness.

I see a moment in someones life that will be remembered, a time that cannot be replaced, a moment of pure spontaneity and delight.

What I see is a boy in the front seat of a car bouncing and singing to the song while his father has joined in the sheer enjoyment of the moment, by singing the chorus with his son and rocking to the beat.

Talk maybe cry

and the adult child sits with her parents
most likely before church starts
the tension so thick it can be seen across the restaurant
her mom does not approve of her skirt
her dad does not approve of her choice of make up


mom and dad look at each other with the 50 years of marriage, they need not say any words
but the look which clearly communicates their intense disapproval of this child is felt deeply by the child
although a woman now in her 30's she still needs them
needs their love
needs their understanding
needs them to not look at each other that way, as if she was 10 yrs old and doesn't know what "that look" means

and she thinks to herself "why can't I just get the nerve to say what is so embedded in their look:
LOSER !
FAIL AT EVERYTHING
NOT MARRIED
NO RELATIONSHIPS
A JOB THAT SUCKS
AND HAVE NO FUTURE"

But her thoughts are broken by the breaking of the silence when her mom says "that's a colorful skirt dear, where did you get it?"
The Dad oblivious to his wife's cattiness adds injury to to the insult just thrown and says "It looks nice but don't you think its a little short?"

and with that the woman hears a pin drop on the other side of the restaurant.

and the three of them sit quiet, waiting for something to save them from this torturous morning. And for what seems like an eternity-was really only 30 seconds, before a little boy screams "I WANT CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES, NOT EGGS!" the demand punctuated by a plate hitting the floor.

and the dad say "sounds like someone is a bit over stressed, maybe got up too early today and is still tired"

and the woman says, "If I did that you would have drug me to the car and beat my ass till I couldn't breath let alone talk, then you'd beat me again when we got home for making you embarrass yourself"

and the mom says, "now dear we were firm with you as a child, but it wasn't all that bad"

and the roles firmly embedded, the child in her 30's takes heed and says no more.

The abuse was real,

but no one talks of it, so it is always there,

a simple thing talking about the wrongs of the past, we as humans need that, we need to know others feel with-us, and if both are lucky tears will be shared.

but no one talks of the past, so it is always there,

and the woman sits with her parents before church the tension so thick it can be seen across the restaurant.