Futility

I was back at my mom’s house by 8:00. She was in the living room, watching a Cheers rerun.  “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Fine."  

She followed me into the spare room. When I pulled out my bag, she asked, “What are you doing?” 

“I'm going back to Chicago."

“When did you decide this?"

“Tonight.”  

I stuffed my few personal items into the bag and headed back to the living room. 

“Maybe you should think about it some more," my mother said, tripping on my heels. "It’s not the kind of decision you want to make on the spur of the moment."

“I’m sorry, but I have to go."

 “Angie, please...learn by my mistakes.  Don't make everything I went through worthless.  Make it count somehow."

That was a nice sentiment. And when I was a kid I’d sworn I would never turn out like her—that I would never allow a man to make me into something I despised. But sometimes who you are sneaks up on you so surreptitiously that by the time it overtakes you, there is no will left to change. 

I took a stack of bills from my wallet and set it on the end table. “Thank you for everything."

My mother lowered her head. I left without another word.

Earthbound

 if you can you see where the universe extends

maybe you can explain what I cannot comprehend

trapped under the weight of this

atmosphere

Adrift

                   when I am the snow without 
            the season
        made to believe in the riddle
but not the reason

 

Crash Landing

 

Every sneaking suspicion 

every grand fantasy

locked in the pale and

infinite sky

but me 

on the ground

broken 

from all the

times I came 

plummeting

down 

Hindsight

 

“You are such a moron,” Jack snorted. “Didn’t you ever notice that the building was set way off the road, and in the woods at that?”

Jonah shrugged. “Well, yeah, but-”

“Where do you think the Muellers got all that money from? Selling ice cream?”

“I knew they had a tavern, but-”

“During Prohibition, idiot! They were connected to the mob!”

“You know that?”

“No, but I can connect the dots myself,” Jack retorted. “Don’t even bother asking Mom about it, either. She’ll just bore you to tears with stories about scooping ice cream cones for cute boys from school, and getting bowls of peanuts for her parents’ friends while they played cards in the backroom. It’s a complete waste of time.”

“Well, by the time Mom was scooping ice creams cones, Prohibition was over.”

“Yeah, but she had to realize what was going on before then. I heard from Jenny Schutz that Grandma and Grandpa used to hide the liquor in the basement when Mom was super little.  That was why the Muellers built them that house right next to the tavern. Who knows?  Maybe there was even a tunnel connecting them!”

“I doubt that.”

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “You obviously don’t know how the criminal mind operates.  And the naiveté you cling to is exactly why you’re stuck in a dead-end job, my friend.  Because the realists are outmaneuvering you at every turn.”

“Programmers don’t try to outmaneuver each other. We just program.”

"Sure, bro," Jack said, obviously bored with the conversation now. "Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Acceptance

 

The peace that comes, my love,
                I will find
I will find
It is the peace that comes
it knows its price
and I will find
                I will find
the yesterday visions I have been
misting through with
tomorrow eyes
Lost in this great divide
                something marginally less insane
                drifting into its own undiscovered
                plane
                in time
when I cannot deny
                the madness that roams 
                these abandoned halls
                looking for the
                commandeered ride
tell me why 

I waved the white flag
when the night never bent to hear
my surrender cries
                I will find
                                I will find
this peace
                for the balking
                for the strangers walking with
                knowledge of the blind
the blind
acceptance displaying the
colors of its price
pushing through the ruins of a victim's
daydream lies
ruins blocking the sun the moon 
                the rise
I will find
                I will find
the peace I can send ahead
and slow dance behind
Because this is your peace now
                yes, this is your peace now
fool for waiting
fooled into waiting for
something more
but there is no lock on the door
and now you can shut out nothing
                let alone the memory of
                the war
All bruised and tattered and sore
                as long as it hurts less than the no-peace
                you were forever crashing through
                before
Because this is your peace now
                this is your peace now
and in the end what you will find
is the quiet absence of any power you
once believed built a castle in the sky
                hidden in his golden palace in the sky
cringing on the cloud throne
playing blind man’s buff with time
                his hands reaching for you
                his hands reaching for you
but even the unbroken must learn how to cry

alone.

Exposed

 

Ursula sent Andy long email, in which she denounced him as an emotional cripple.  She also compared him to her father, who had never loved anything but the family dog, and said neither one of them (Andy and her father, not the dog) had no idea what emotional intimacy was.  I’m sure you’ve already stopped reading by now, she sniffed at the end, but she was wrong. Andy read the whole thing. He even showed it to Jake, who had a good chuckle over it.  “Women,” Jake laughed. “Always so damn superior. Talk about needing a psychiatrist, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, whadya want with a chick named Ursula? I’m telling you—stick to the women with normal names. The ones who sound like they should be in a Bond movie are always psychopaths.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Andy answered. But he wasn’t smiling.