Goodbye to all this

do you see where eternity ends
did you know that you were my friend
this planet a box that holds me

Beginnings and Endings

              Jack showed up on Sunday afternoon.   He muttered a vague greeting, then dropped down onto the couch.  “I was listening to the game on the radio,” he said.  “We are so hosed.”

              “Yeah.”

              “Got any beer?”

              “In the fridge.”

             Jack went into the kitchen.  When he came back he was carrying a beer in one hand, and the bag of Doritos Jonah had just bought in his other.  He opened the bag and set it on the table, so that it was within easy reaching distance of Jonah’s chair.  “This flavor is pretty good,” Jack said, crunching hard on a sample chip.  “Cool Ranch, huh?  I’ve never tried it before.”

            “It’s been out for a while now.”

            “No kidding?  Guess I’m pretty clueless when it comes to new trends in snack products.”

“There are worse things to be clueless about.”

“Yeah, like stats.  My fantasy football team is getting crushed this year.  I just haven’t had time to keep up, you know?”

“My team is pretty hopeless, too.  I'm in last place at work.”

“Your team is always hopeless,” Jack answered, grinning.  “But that reminds me—you wanna go bowling this Saturday night?”

            “I thought Kelly didn't like you to go out on weekend nights.”

            “Oh.  Yeah.  Well, she moved out.”

            Jonah tore his eye away from the T.V.  “She did?”

            “Yeah.  Yesterday.  She said she was just waiting until Mom died.”  Not looking at Jonah, Jack grabbed another handful of chips.  “She said I wasn't ‘emotionally available,’ or some bull shit like that, but I don’t know what she’s talking about.  I was home every single night, just about, and, I mean, I wasn’t going to give up poker night.  It was only once a month, for christ’s sake.”

            “Wow.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, you’ll find someone else.  You always do, right?”

“Not this time.   That’s it for me.  I give up.  Three strikes and you’re out.  I know I wasn't married to Sheila, but close enough.  I’ll never understand women.  They could be locked up in a room and studied for a thousand years by the world’s leading scientists and we still would never understand them.”

             “I don’t know…”  Jonah stared hard at the T.V. screen.  Thinking of Deb, he said, “I don’t think they’re all that different from us.”

             “Maybe not,” Jack answered; suddenly he sounded very, very tired.  “But if that’s true, it means we just aren't marriage material.  You and me, I mean.”  Jack shot Jonah an uncomfortable glance before he took a swig of his beer and pointed at the T.V.  “Look at that moron,” he said.  “A loss of two yards, when there was a huge hole right up the middle.  The Heisman curse strikes again.”

The Divine Lie

so I strapped on my wings

took to your sky

                blinded by a million sparkling dreams

                snowflakes falling into infinity

the howling drums of wind and war echoing

around me…

  

and then the

candle

went out

                                

The waiting dragon

           Josie was in the process of creating a make-shift bandage in front of the sink when she realized she was no longer alone—and yet, no one had come through the door. This could mean only one thing.  Hoping to see a friendly fuzzy image, Josie raised her eyes to the mirror.

Just behind her own reflection stood the figure of a blurred, elderly clergyman.  As she struggled to maintain her composure Josie considered attempting to casually stroll out of the ladies' room to the relative safety of the bus depot lobby, but her arm was still bleeding all over the counter.  She didn't really have a choice.   She wasn't a good enough actress to pretend no one was there. 

There was nothing for it.  With a deep breath Josie turned around and waved at him.  “Hello,” she said, in what she hoped was a genial sort of way.

            “You can see me?” the Minister exclaimed.   

             “Of course.”

            “So I was right—you were following my friend.”

            “I don’t know what you mean,” Josie replied, rapidly deciding that the best course of action was to act as stupid as possible.  It wasn't as if she wanted to earn the Minister’s respect—she just wanted him to leave her alone, the sooner the better.  And god knew Josie really had no idea what was going on with this whole Interior business, anyway, so acting stupid wouldn't be that much of a stretch.  “Following who?” she asked.

            Ignoring her question, the Minister demanded, “How is it that you have come to be involved in this?”

            “Involved in what?”

            The Minister sighed expressively.  “Where,” he said, “is the file?”

            “What file?”

            “The one you stole from us.”

Josie held up her hands.  “I’d love to help you, but as you can see, I don’t have any file.”

“I saw my friend chasing you.”

“What friend?”

            “You obviously think I am a fool.”

            “I think nothing of the sort.”

            “Why are you helping the King?”

            “Which king?”

            “You are not from the Interior.”

            “The Department of Interior?”

            “Why can you see me?”

            “Can’t everyone?” Josie asked.  “And, hey, what are you doing in the ladies’ room anyway?  You don’t look like a girl.”

            For a moment Josie could have sworn the Minister was going to explode.  But when he smiled instead, Josie almost wished he hadn't.  Nothing about that smile felt like a warm fuzzy.  “You must be a queen in your world,” he said, but Josie shook her head.  “No.  Only a girl.”

“There is nothing ‘only’ about it,” the Minister replied, in such a way that made Josie’s skin crawl.  “Well, my dear, I would love to chat and learn more about you, but it appears that I must take my leave.  Until we meet again.”

And the image vanished as mysteriously as it appeared.

My crooked window

Let me tell you what I know about

my broken heart

this is the rhythm of it falling apart

toss the stones in the river because

we are

we are coming up for air again

What did I even know about

guilt and sin

all of the dreams that

I was dying in

it was a curse it was a blessing it

was utter nothingness

until it skidded and came crashing

home

No telling how the earth will

record this disaster

whistling dixie in the wind

as if I had the answer

            ballet with fractured form

tripped up by vengeful rapture

the hammer flung against

the wall

Dismantled piece by piece into

a million parts

buried back with Santa at

the Christmas tree farm

what is dead is what is real to

the falling apart

we heard the siren but not the

alarm

I wonder how I will know when

the sky becomes my master

when dreams of yesterday stop

mocking me with laughter

tomorrow is today tornadoes

circling my trailer

I was wrong over

and over again

Now I whisper to the wind about

my broken heart

failing in slow motion

not a subtle art

toss the stones in the river because

I am

I am here alone at the end

Far away

But the storm came rolling in
the storm came rolling in
a million miles of prairie grass
and your golden-haired girl
exposed once again

Wandering around my mind

The pen bothered me. So I asked him about it.  “Where’d you get this pen again?”  It was fat and full of multi-colored ink cartridges.

The strange animal character on the screen jumped over a crumpled brick wall with an appropriate boing sound.  “I found it,” he answered.

“Oh.  Okay.”  I walked into the hallway.  But I wanted to know more, so I asked, “Where?”

“School, I think,” he shouted from the other room.

“Okay.”  But I still didn't remember.  I knew I remembered at one time—and that was the worst part.