Little Angel

Little Angel.

Nothing really changes too much. Sometimes that’s a wonderful thing. Sometimes it’ll end you. But I’m here and so are you and tonight that’s good enough to hold us till the sun comes up again.

The night is clear and cool. The music is good and I have a fire burning in the backyard. The moon is full and keeping us hopeful. The beer is cold and there’s more in the fridge.

One day I’ll be gone, but you’ll still be here. And you’ll be glad that you and I were once in love.

My room is empty, but the sheets are clean and will feel good when it’s time for me to climb in and my pillow will hold my head and my dreams of the good days and the bad.

When I lay down and I close my eyes I’ll see you kicking at the waves in that old picture of you I took that last day at the beach. My heart will hold you there forever.

The fire glows hot and red. The neighbors are laughing in their beds. They are happy and have no idea that I’m listening to them through the open window.

I’ll pour another drink, then pour another after that. And I’ll be missing those nights when some poor lonely bastard was listening to us. In love, kissing and sweating in the summer heat. Good night little Angel, good night.

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Drinking Buddy

Drinking Buddy.

I drank more than half of a bottle last night. I’d worked all day. The drive home was an hour and a half. For dinner I stopped for a burger and fries. Then, I drank tequila, shot after shot.

It was 230 in the morning when I woke up on the couch. The radio was still playing and my heart punched against the inside of my chest. I turned off the radio and the lights. I took off my shoes and went back to sleep on the couch.

I was supposed to be at work by 7 am the next morning. It was the end of my second week at a new job. I didn’t wake up until 9am. I got up and opened all the doors and windows. I was still drunk as I walked out into my backyard to call my boss. The bright and beautiful sun and sky punished my eyes and head. The lawn was freshly mowed. An ant was climbing on my foot when my boss scolded me on the phone, telling me to get my ass to work. I told her I was on my way and hung up the phone.

In the middle of the short cut grass, I noticed something move. I walked over to find a small blue bird. I knelt to him and put my open hands near him. The little bird hopped three tiny hops into the cup of my hands. I stood and lifted him to my chest.

I said, “Hello tiny little thing.” And he chirped and stretched out his wings and then brought them back into himself. I didn’t shower, shave or even brush my teeth before I picked up the car keys from the counter and drove the little bird to the vet, late for work or not.

I asked the vet what I should do for the bird. They sold me a cage with smooth thin branches wedged between the bars for the bird to perch. They sold me seed and suggested a blanket to cover the cage at night or when the weather turns cold.

Back home, the little blue bird sang in the kitchen as I put on my socks and shoes after my shower. I still had to go to work.

I sat in traffic to get to work. I sat in traffic to get home again. From outside the backdoor I could hear my new room mate call out as he heard the jingle of my keys unlocking the door.

I opened the cage door and the little blue bird sat in his open doorway. He watched me pour a drink and sang.

I could tell that he was happy that I was home. I could tell that he’d rather be there in my kitchen than lost in my backyard.

It’s finally Friday and I will drink the other half of this bottle. But at least I won’t be alone. My little blue bird friend will be with me. And maybe I was wrong about God not being out there after all.

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The Taste of Flesh Never Grows Old.

I thought I heard something out on the back porch. I went to the door, but there was no one there. I’d been checking for days. The porch remains empty. I sleep alone. Eat alone. Drive to work alone. Movies. Working out. Talking. I am alone.

I hear it again and I open the door, but there is still nothing there. Only the sky. In the sky there are clouds. Behind the clouds is the night. In the night I can see the stars. They do not see me.

The face of the t.v. is blank. The bottles in the cupboard are all empty. The writing on the wall has faded away too.

I walk around my apartment unplugging all of the appliances from the grid. I’ve stopped killing the spiders that crawl from the corners of the ceiling and the floor.

I have no car in the driveway. No motorcycle in the garage. What is left behind is no longer my own. What still belongs to me is what is clenched in my teeth when I sleep.

Take that away with you. Take it away from me. Give it to all of those others whose porches have gone empty as have mine.

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Three for me

Three for me.

I’m glad that he lived and I’m glad I lived too. The sky was high and I was too. The birds they sang and so did I. The workers they worked and so did I. And the world it turned and so did I and so did you. The ashes they fell and so did I. My mother she laughed and cried and so did I. The wind it blew and so did I and so will forever too. The night it came and then it ran away and so did I. The pages were filled and the pen it flowed and so did I. The ants they crawled and so did I. The branches of the trees they bent and so did I. I tried and tried and so did you. And I loved and loved and that’s all that there is.

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The last ride

The last ride.

The day was good. I was up and out of bed early. I showered and went out for coffee. I was on my motorbike. It’s slick and low and loud. I wore my boots with no socks. Black denim jeans. A red t-shirt with a hole over my left shoulder. I stuffed my Batman baseball cap into my belt. And I was on the road. The sun roamed high above and paid little attention to me. It’s been a long while since I’ve taken The Beast out for a ride. The road was mostly empty and clear and made way for The Beast and I to get reacquainted. I needed to be on the bike this morning. I needed the road. I needed the sound of the engine and the wind rushing into my helmet. I needed the solitude. The idea of escape before the last ride.

I’d spent the day riding out and into the path of the sun. I rode till I tired and pulled over somewhere out in the desert for a bite. I ate and drank beer and Irish whiskey till I fell asleep in the booth. The waitress nudged me awake. She told me that she let me snooze as long as she could, but her boss wanted me up and out. And when I climbed back on The Beast, it was dusk. The ride home was good. There was more traffic than before, but the sky was orange, grey and purple as I rode back into the west.

I rumbled up the driveway and parked the bike. I pulled off my helmet and poured myself a drink. The cat pawed at the screen door as I peeled open his dinner and tapped it out onto his plate. On the back porch, he purred as he ate. I poured another drink. I sat at my desk, my feet still in my boots and resting on the t.v. tray. My notebook on my lap. And I know I will be alright.

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Weird tacos

Weird tacos.

I ate them from a taco truck in the parking lot of a divey strip club. I was told that they were tortuga tacos. I didn’t believe that they were actually turtle, but they were delish nonetheless. The club was small, dingy and smelled like bed sheets that needed changing.

Strange women drifted about. Giant blondes with their bikini underwear that glows under the black light. Harsh, over exaggerated faces, tits and high heeled shoes. But there was one there, different from the rest. Always a good thing to find one different from the rest.

These places are not usually for me. You go home with nothing more than the promise of an ugly hangover due to drinking more than an amateur should. But I was there on invite to a bachelor’s party. I sat at the bar alone. I watched the rest of them throw crunched up dollar bills at someone’s daughter showing her pain to the next guy with a crunched up fiver.

I drank. And I drank more. I was young and of strong heart. I left that bar with the scent of an angel in my clothes. And her phone number too.

It took two weeks and a picnic on the beach, beer and tacos in the sand, before we stared at the moon together.

It was something strange and good that I didn’t understand. Much like the light bulb. Pull the string, it’s on. Pull the string, it’s off. Eight years I pulled that string. Till one day I pulled too hard. And it was off for good.

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South by Southwest

South by Southwest.

I know my life isn’t perfect. I have my dark days. But I feel alright. The thing that’s eating at me, is someone recently telling me that I’m depressed. This is from someone that had never held my hand. Never tasted my kisses. Never came by my cock. I told her that I don’t believe in pen pals. Go away if you must. That’s my feeling. I will certainly live on without her. But something about the way her lips moved when she talked interested me. I liked the way her eyes got thin and slitty when she smiled in her pictures. I liked how she wore light summer dresses. But her handshake was limp and weak. A bad sign from the start. She looked for reasons not to like me. I told her most of the truths about myself. We decided that we were not meant to be friends. It’s been a while since I’ve made any real friends. I wonder if she ever had any either. She’ll be fine without me. And so will I without her. But the poor dear will never know the bitter-sweet of me breaking her heart.

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Thursday is practically Friday

Thursday is practically Friday.

Traffic was light on the way home tonight. My spirits could have gone either way. I tuned the radio to happy music, because I didn’t want to be sad by the time I’d reached my driveway.

I ate an early lunch, but it was a good one. And it held me all day. By the time I got home, I was laughing to myself. ‘Cause there wasn’t anyone else to laugh with. And laughing is the only thing that has ever saved my ass up until now.

I poured a drink. It wasn’t a sad drink, like most nights. It was a good one.
A friend of mine, his father died today. I have a father. My son has me. One day my heart will break when my father goes. I never want to leave my son.

I was still happy. I drank a couple more. I was expecting a check in the mail. But instead there was an invite to a young couple’s wedding. They’d taken the time to write out my full name and address. They’ll marry mid-summer, back home in the mid-west. I’ll likely not make it. Work and rent will get in the way. But more than that, I don’t think I could stand showing up alone.

The sun was up and out early this morning. Tomorrow will be Friday. The weekend will be clear and good. I’ll be working and grateful for it.

I only wish that when I come home after, there’d be someone sweet and waiting like there once was. The world is big and still so small. Somewhere, sometime, not too far out, there are sweet little kisses waiting for me, and for you too.

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The Lunar landing was not faked

The Lunar landing was not faked.

I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you. I don’t expect that you’ll believe me. So, I’ll just come out and say it. I have been abducted by aliens. And I remember everything about it.

It happened the night before I was born. It was the middle of the night. My mother woke up worried. It was raining outside, and she was more than 9 months pregnant. There was an unnatural pain that stemmed from her womb and shot out though the whole of her.

She tried to wake my father, but he was passed out on the living room floor. He’d long ago been introduced to heroine and it kept him on a cruel and humiliating leash. The pain my mother felt sent her into shock. She stumbled next door, barefoot and soaking wet, wearing my father’s favorite t-shirt. It was the shirt he liked to wear to work on Fridays. It was late Sunday night. Her older brother lived in the adjacent apartment with his wife. My mother asked him to drive her to the hospital. They had to step over my father to get her things. My mother’s brother was an adventurist of sorts. He had motorcycles. Surfboards. A large knife collection. And a “Willie” style Jeep. Not long after that night, he would be killed in that Jeep on a desert excursion.

The Jeep didn’t have a top or side windows. And when they backed it out of the carport, one of the rear tires had a flat. He had to change it in the dark and the rain. My father was still asleep on the floor. They drove full-speed. My mother couldn’t even cry, her pain was so intense. They hobbled into the emergency room. Blood and rain ran down her legs. Young men and women dressed in white met them in the lobby and laid her on a bed with wheels and rushed her behind heavy swinging doors. At that point, all went quiet for her. She couldn’t hear the people above her, shouting down into her face. The rolling bed was slammed into a large elevator with automatic doors on either side of it. Inside of the elevator, the walls were painted a pale pea-green. My mother began to scream.

She was certain that she would die that night. There is an unquestionable truth that only death can speak. And she’d heard its whisper between her short breaths. She tried to swallow, but could not. All she could think about was that she never intended to get pregnant. And when it happened she’d planned on ridding herself of the burden. When the time came, she couldn’t go through with it. In that elevator, she prayed that it wasn’t a careless decision that would end up killing her.

Between floors, as the elevator cabled upward, blood poured from her. It soaked the bed sheets and she could feel it thick and squishing in her hands, at her sides. And that’s when it happened. Whatever I was destined to be, I became.

There was an immense light.

Everything that ever was and everything that ever will be, filled my eyes, my heart, my mind and my soul. My flesh was still in my mothers’ belly. The elevator climbed. But I was above the entire scene. I hovered over my mother and the young doctors and nurses that were trying to save the lives of the both of us. I saw the blood and fear. The fear was with them all. From up above, I could see into who my mother was. I saw every moment of her life until then. And I saw her last day too. I could see what and where the others would face too, those doctors and nurses.

Floating up there with me were other people. Strangers. They all had one hand touching the walls of the elevator and the other hand, reaching out, touching an illuminated creature. It was an other worlds visitor, and we were circled around it. This creature was feeding us. We were being filled with inconceivable insights into every tiny corner of the Universe. All of us floating above my dying mother and my dying self, we looked into each of our eyes. There we saw every star being born, and inevitably, fading out. We saw gods being born. We saw the Earth crumple in space like an old, empty pack of cigarettes and disintegrate into dust.

Then, the alien began to remove each of our hands from its being. My hand was the last. With every other person there, they just disappeared. Before the alien pulled my hand from itself, it took my hand to its mouth and with large and flat teeth, like that of a hoven animal, it bit off my thumb with a clean snap. And I was returned to my mother’s whom.

She was in the delivery room. I felt a great loss from being separated from the others, and even more so, being separated from the alien. I was incredibly uncomfortable. Everything felt so stifling. I was filled with regret and anger even before my first breath. But that breath came, and then, I was the one screaming.

Nothing would ever be normal for me. I’d already been elsewhere and everywhere. Very few would know, or admit to knowing, what I know. And I would forever be scratching at the walls, looking for and listening for, that truest of whispers of a way out.

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With every rose

With every rose.

I don’t want to close my eyes forever. But forever will come for me anyway. That’s why I’m calling out to you tonight. I am asking if you will remember me. Will you think of me when the moon is almost full. Will you see me when you laugh like you did when we were in each others’ eyes. If you happen to bite the inside of your cheek, will I be there in the bitter taste of blood and flesh. I hope that I will be. And if you keep me hidden away within, wherever you chose to keep me, maybe I may never have to close my eyes forever after all.

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