Tacos and Ashlee Simpson

Let me borrow
that face
to use in the backdrop
of this poem I'm writing
in
scribble words scratch
spattered about
in midnight
push pen
pre dream
and if you've
been to the desert
something about it's
people
screams inspiration
Do you want to see it,
smell it,
the teenage angst
it's thick here
and punk rock is
cool now,
so even
skater kid
grungy
faded chords
OP tight,
circa '75
skater shoes torn,
and his chick,
this beautiful
little thing
big blue eyes
dark hair,
in these curly
locks
jeans low
on waist
hips show
probably fifteen
lost,
but,
no girl looking
like that would
haved talked to me
in early
skater
baggy jean days...
Oh and don't forget
8th grade
best friend, now a cop
in full gear,
gun at side,
9mil.
still funny
8th grade smile,
friendly,
remenices with me
even though
beer breath
slurs in face...
Walk with my now,
into wind blow dust
in panels,
walls of
crunch in teeth dirt,
sunset
purple pink
to light blink
illuminate
low desert sky
turning into
the most amazing
shade of blue...
Now the colossal
structures
on horizon,
just giant swirling,
glowing blinking
burps of color
attached to these
shotty
bolt rusted
rain weathered
excuses for
carnival rides,
and it's builders and operators
standing next to
the small control consul
pupils
big as bullet holes high
smiling
at your fate
in the hands of his buddy
Roland,
who snorted
homemade meth
in the meth capital
of the world
all night long,
and the night before that
and haven't slept at all
for days,
but push the buttons
to your childs fate...

Shawn's Letter

Shawn is best friend of past years,
roommate at one time—
these were the ancient best days;
the memories of four o’clock apartment crowds,
awake with racing madness,
of haunted bloodstream’s,
‘cause its cheap,
‘cause it can be burnt in light bulbs,
and besides we live in Meth capital of the world
and downstairs of the condo we shared,
were these dark, shadow like lumps,
who slept twenty minutes
to awake to six o’clock sunshine and another fix;
constant complaints from neighbors of noise,
“Shit, they’re your friends Shawn”
was always argument,
but secretly I was fascinated
by their skinny, sucked up, flesh on bone faces,
their conversations speedily spat
and their drawings produced
on Taco Bell napkins
in all night, nightmare bloodstream binges.
Shawn was skater superhero among most,
friend from school to others,
he had a pudgy, little brother-like face
with dimples and blue eyes,
and a big mouth full of instigation loudness
and smart ass remarks,
that I always loved to hear.
He was funny, shy-like around girls
who played Barbie and corvette
with his subtle cuteness,
shy eyed stares,
and insecure insults and affirmations;
yet, he skated with Hall of Justice like skill
and we all,
there was a group of us like brothers,
shared dysfunctions, music interests and skateboarding.

1
That night, among friends spitting conversation and what not, she arrived in a quiet way, Matt as always announcing the play by play in subliminal drunk commentary of instigations and laughing. Her blue eyes, her wash-faded, plain yellow t-shirt, it all fit her so well. Yeah, I knew Lainey, we all knew Lainey. Sure most of us had, at least once, a random four, five word conversation with her, here or there, around--though she always seemed uninterested in what I had to say, distant, looking over my shoulder, shy like actions, sweetness of melted chocolate in her voice that all produced this sexiness, her sexiness was undeniable, almost magical in it’s way of attracting you and making you question “why so sexy?”

But, that night, yellow t-shirt, lamp over-head showing soft-glow shadow halo on top of her straight, stringy blonde hair; occasional, pleasant, intermittent smiles, that she hid so much behind--only to find out later about her trivial discontinuations; these were the things haunting her sexiness, regardless of how delectably alluring it was.
I left briefly, then came back, only to find her more real than ever, sitting lonely, lost in the sacred surroundings of men talking and acting like boys, yelling, drinking, smoking. On the table next to her sat three empty beer cans, but it was her sweetness ankles exposed at end of jeans, soft wrists, crossed on knees, that, for some reason, were all so sensually exquisite.
She turned, paused as she looked and smiled at me, maybe noticing my sudden fascination with her, but I resisted those thoughts, smiled back to her and stepped back into the kitchen for a new Rum, shot of some Topaka or Tuaca liquor shit, that tasted sweet, and went down, chased by a straight shot of Rum.
Matt stood next to me in the kitchen, his loud conversation echoed off the cheap cupboards and dirty counters--battling Lou Barlow and Sebadoh, through blaring speakers. I looked at Matt, he returned the look without a slip of words, then smirked, cigarette hanging loosely, unlit,
“What?” he said to me with fantastic sarcasm, “Time to Puff?” then continued unstopped in his conversation of simple somethings I’ve forgotten. I stared at him, probably red eyed, squinted, in my own small town headache, giving no reply, then Matt, at the end of conversation words, stared back, and I said,
“What?” and smiled with equal sarcasm.
But eyes wonder, and she still sat there, probably talking low, secret girl-like stuff—probably “lets go”, or “I’m bored,” because this was the first time in a while they’d hung out there. Her friend next to her had tight shirt boobs and tight tank top because its sweaty, hot and humid--like sheets in bedroom, where I had begun to wonder if Lainey would like yank at sheet ecstasy, that’s better Lainey, look this way so I can signal something, instead she turned back to her conversation, sip of beer, crossed her legs again.
Lainey was Shawn’s girlfriend once—I say girlfriend, but he, sucked into deep trepidation of love affair, was later heartbroken pondering at again “why so sexy?” and “why in love with such an evil angel?” He was ultimately let down hard by her. Shawn is my best friend of past years, roommate at one time—these were the ancient best days; the memories of four o’clock apartment crowds, awake with racing madness of haunted bloodstream’s, ‘cause its cheap, ‘cause it can be burnt in light bulbs, and besides we live in Meth capital of the world and downstairs of the condo we shared, were these dark, shadow like lumps, who slept twenty minutes to awake to six o’clock sunshine and another fix; constant complaints from neighbors of noise, “Shit, they’re your friends Shawn” was always the argument, but secretly I was fascinated by their skinny, sucked up, flesh on bone faces, their conversations speedily spat and their drawings produced on Taco Bell napkins in all night, nightmare bloodstream binges.
Shawn was skater superhero among most, friend from school to others, he had a pudgy, little brother-like face with dimples and blue eyes, and a big mouth full of instigation loudness and smart ass remarks, that I always loved to hear. He was funny, shy-like around girls who played Barbie and corvette with his subtle cuteness, shy eyed stares, and insecure insults and affirmations; yet, he skated with Hall of Justice like skill and we all, there was a group of us like brothers, shared dysfunctions, music interests and skateboarding.
Shawn, in younger years, was always wowing about girl defeats and crushes that only materialized long, across the hall glances—such was the case with Lainey, who broke Shawn’s heart freshman, sophomore, and junior years of high school with these such ignorances and save for later hellos.
But, the years following high school Lainey found drugs, she found friends different from those who had popular-like faces and party friends, and also soon found Shawn’s adoring cuteness, frequently empty apartment and his love—this the simple skeleton of love facts and stories later to be extricated from this tattered notebook—and we were all given play by play of Lainey’s true sexiness, her love of front seat, starry, joshua night sex acts in his car and Shawn’s undying infatuation for school girl looks and blue-eyed heaven figure.
Shawn hated the meth, he hated finding her with dirty, skinny like fellows, awake days on end, feeding her the white demon powder, just to have midnight friend there, still awake to talk to and to have more with. His heart was broken when fights led to undercover secrets, hidden from Shawn, and never asked about, in fear of more heartache.
Now she’s here, one year later, done with those days, and still so angel, plain-faced with thin lips and subtle freckles on the tip of her nose—and oh, something I just couldn’t put my finger on yet.
Shawn’s still gone. In the winter we moved to the mountains for snowboarding, I’d come back early that year. He was anticipating soon return to summer nights with friends, and news of Lainey’s hang arounds again, clean.
I returned from my smoking trip in back room and with new perspectives. I walked over and sat next to her in an empty chair,
“Hey Lainey, how’ve ya been?”
She smirked then a short laugh—but really thinking ‘why so long until he comes and says hi’, but her and I really are only acquaintances, from friends, so no matter.
Conversation went on, and words I have long forgotten drifted between uncomfortableness. It was stuffy, and I said, after her friend went to the couch to talk to the boys,
“Let’s go outside,” with friendly like invitation and she agreed.
In remembering what followed that I mostly have flashbulb blizzard of images, words of this and that and her, here goes,
Light shown down, like Scorcese film, showed subtle freckles on her nose, reminding me of lemon juice and pinch poke ya owe me a Coke innocence.
Matt standing just inside the crack of the door, beer in hand, his loud voice conversation was muffled.
She sat down in a plastic patio chair, on the small porch in front of apartment, her legs were up on the other chair across from her.
I stood, head back, watching earth spin evening above and wondering what tactics—testing conversation samples in my mind, because it had been a while since I wanted to entertain such conversation with a girl, usually I just didn’t care.
All it really took was my smile, and laughter, which lead to no particular reply from her, just her shy, school girl smile in return. And though it was brief, the changing features of her face and mood, brought her eyes and her whole face into an ideal look leading to¾which forever, to this day, appears in soft, blurry backdrops of dreams¾that one moment, the indescribable feeling of harmony that exists between nervousness and beginning magnetic attraction.
Conversation began and content has long been forgotten. Her soft shyness, coming through in her whispery voice changed and it became loud when she became angry or emotion was being expressed. We became comfortable talking and like old friends she laughed and paid attention, with smiles and bright blue eyes that even in the darkness glowed.
But our conversation did lead to Jason. Jason is the monster antagonist to this love affair; they’d practically grown up together, dated on and off through high school, dated on and off around Shawn, and only recently split once more. He was possessive and not her type, but he offered a security to her, that I found later, Lainey needed. I knew Jason only slightly, most familiar with him from Shawn’s stories of the calling and harassing Shawn with pathetic pleas of “She’s mine, leave her the fuck alone,” and Shawn laughing, amused by this poor guy who was beyond pussy whooped, rather pussy stung with Lainey deadly venom, and at the time I skipped through Jason subject and continued on to other generalities of our lives, and what nots.
Now I knew why she was coming around again, and I began to feel slow magnetic motions of fate putting spells on her and I. Just the slow discovery of each other’s faces and smiles, and when I began to notice such magnetics I became nervous for the first time that night around her, but I drank such nervousness away.
We talked for what seemed like hours. Interrupted intermittently, now and then, with so and so smoking a cigarette, or Matt coming out to loudly include us in his point about this and that, then her friend, then I went for more beer, while Matt talks to her about Shawn, or old memory Lainey and him have together of some desert night, somewhere.
Then more people arrive, then leave, then arrive and the whole time Lainey and I buried in smiling, laughing, ignore the world conversation. We decided to go back inside and now it’s been hours, its late, we’re drunk and noticing attraction. Her look with smiles, under blue eyed instigation and flirting was now, ‘I want you, lets get closer’ and I was at a stage where I had lost all moral or ethical judgment and just followed her subtle tugs at my t-shirt into the darkness of the hallway; ino a small dark nook by the bathroom.
Her hands on my t-shirt, they were delicate, like white china cabinet plates, thin fingers digging wrinkles with little effort tugs down my chest, as she pulled in closer to my face and body—and I couldn’t wait, like Christmas Eve anticipation. We kissed against the bathroom door, I tasted her cinnamon gum, Coors light, tint of smoke, and sweetness of sugar and spice and everything was dandy.
We stopped, she looked at me with this quiet, innocent smile, blushed and batted her eyes—as if to say this is new to me, but really she’s a relationship, warlike-veteran whose weapon plan is seduction. She opened the bathroom door to bring me to darkness, to have privacy to breathe heavy, fueled by the newness, because that’s all it really is, a new toy, a new bike, a new Han Solo in Hoth suit, a new car, a new touch, and when it fits the newness changes its tinge, it reaches into you through skin, breath then brain.
It was two, and two was late for them. Her friend interrupted with knock, and brief goodbyes and see you tomorrows was all that was said before she left, but the smell of her perfume lingered on my nose and hands like certain dream images do in early morning.

2
After they left I went out and sat down on the couch next to Matt, and his laugh began this, this realization. Picture the room, Matt on couch, beer in hand, hat backwards, hair flailing in strands above ear and back of neck, slouching in saggy cushions smelling of last weeks bong water and mishaps of shaken beer cans opened too soon, rested on end with glance, smile and laugh. Josh on the other side of me, spoke first, quietly in my ear, leaning toward me, wobbly drunk, as well, head back on couch, hat on forward, crooked, smirking, but all seriousness in his round eyes on round face,
“Did you mack?” motioning with hand toward hallway/bathroom direction with raise of eyebrows. All I could do was laugh, at the time—but inside it hit me and realization began. Then Matt, loudly,
“WHOOAA, what’s Shawn gonna say, he’ll be pissed if he finds out you macked his chick fool,” then har har har in Matt like sarcasm.
Shawn, it had been a bit of a joke, in a way, ‘his chick’, did have secret heart broken when they split, and I, of all people, knew this well. Sure it had been months since the split, a whole winter, she was over this, I thought, as was he¾I thought. I mean I thought Shawn would laugh at any interest I may suddenly acquire for this gorgeous little ex desert sex angel of his and I was beginning to love the thoughts of quiet night’s alone with her.

Lainey and I saw each other two nights later at Luke’s house. All of us had left then come back with more cars, people and alcohol. At first she was avoiding me altogether, hiding out in the back of the room, but I caught her watching me in between conversation with friends. I noticed glances, and played along. Once outside, she tugged like a little girl on my shirt and pulled me aside and kissed me out of sight. I saw the magnetism in those glowing blue nighttime desert eyes.
“What are you guys doing tonight?” She asked.
“I dunno, probably just hanging out here”—it being Saturday night, here being Luke’s house, Matt and everybody inside drinking Keystone or some cheap shit, smoking.
“We’re going to Sarah’s,” she replied with a smirk, “Her parents are gone.”
“So are we,” I said with a laugh—Sarah’s is far, but there is a pool table, stocked alcohol cabinet, change of scenery, and Lainey.

Four left with us, I rode in back with her, her head on my shoulder, and her soft body sensitivity leaned into me with quiet, fifth grade like subtle shyness.
When we got there we found ourselves back in the crowd, scattered. She tried to catch my eye from across the room, but I ignored her at first, to play the game I thought she would just go back to. Frustrated, she made her way to me, grabbed me and yanked me into the dark living room by my shirt sleeve.
“What the Fuck,” I said half laughing, her dragging me behind, then she stopped, turned and came close to my face, and looked at me,

“What?” I said smiling.
“I’m not going to stand around in there and play your little fucking games,”
“What gam…” Then she kissed me.
She dragged me to a couch, in the dark living room away from noisy, drunk conversations and laughter at TV. Her and I found out each other’s likes and dislikes and fantastic turn-ons without a word, just heavy breathing and hands in shirts and pants and closeness of sexual ecstasies impending, but not happening.

Shawn was due home the next day, Sunday. I knew this and I knew in the deep, dark back of my mind there would be some degree of disagreement to this sudden interest in his old love¾yet to what degree I was unsure. We we’re at Matt’s, playing Super Mario Cart, drinking Heineken twenty-twos and passing around a freshly rolled swisher with sticky weed that tasted sweet and smelled even sweeter with tobacco paper.
He showed up at Matt’s that night around six, and upon his first step in the door I had the gravest realization, premonition rather, with heart thump anticipation and fear. He looked at everyone in the room but me. Smiling the typical Shawn like smile, big dimples—Shawn was well respected by these guys, they loved his magnetic rambunctiousness, not to mention he had become a super-hero snowboarder in the mountains and this had envious qualities. To me he was still just a little brother of sorts. When he finally looked at me I saw frustration and anger in his eyes and I knew. I looked at Matt, he could see, feel my anticipation, then Shawn sat down, on the other side of Matt, leaned over him, looked at me and said,
“I don’t even Believe you dude,” shaking his head. I was silent.
“Shawn,” I said, “We should talk.”
“To be honest, I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”
I was shocked, though I shouldn’t have been. I was silent, I just got up and left.

I saw Lainey that following afternoon. We went to lunch, Chinese food, she used the chopsticks, to play with her food, quiet, lost in her chow mien noodles¾maybe sensing something with me, maybe unsure as to where we stood and afraid to put it all on the table.
“I saw Shawn last night,” I said.
“You did,” she said low like not looking up, “What’d he say?” and I hesitated, I didn’t know if I wanted to say anything at first or not, then I just said it,
“He was mad…”
“He was?” she said looking up, blue eyes wide.

We left with plans to see each other the following night. I went back to Matt’s later to talk to Shawn¾I thought after a day, if he smoked a bit, drank a bit, things would cool down. When I arrived Matt was gone. Dale, Josh and Shawn watched the Simpson’s, laughing, but there was a hush, with smiles of anticipation upon my arrival. I walked to the side of the couch,
“Shawn, man, we need to talk.” I said looking back toward Matt’s room, and Shawn followed me back.
“I don’t really want to hear what you have to say. I mean seriously dude, what were you thinking. You, you of all people should know,”¾I saw a different side of Shawn, a side kept so hidden from all of us, a sensitivity anger that I always knew was there, yet never gave a second thought to, because I never had to. I remained silent, head down, everything so clear now, I did know, but I ignored it all along.
“I mean Fuck,” his voice raised, ”Fuck, dude I have lost all respect for you. Of all the chicks out here, why Lainey.”¾the truth was there just weren’t a lot of chicks out here, but I said nothing.
“Just answer me that, why her. I just don’t understand you at all…” And suddenly I didn’t understand me either. “Your fucking doomed bro, she’s going to fuck with your head, and, oh wait til Jason starts calling you, I won’t feel sorry for you at all bro, not one bit.”

3
I had never seen Shawn this angry with me. In all the years we had known each other, with all we’d been through, there had never been trivial falling outs of any sort, whatsoever. I almost broke down that afternoon trying to apologize to him, trying to explain my regret.
But by the end of that night we had come to an understanding, and though Shawn hadn’t necessarily forgiven me, he realized no girl is worth such friendship. He never really said I could carry on this hug and kiss love affair with Lainey, but I knew he wouldn’t have much to do with me when I did. I had cancelled plans with her that night, claiming I was ill. I knew she sensed that things were weird because there was that return of shyness, apprehension, in her voice.
The following day I made plans to see her after she got off work¾there was this side of me that held a constant anticipation to see her, to kiss her, to just feel her leaning close to me like she liked to.
She was at her sister’s house, she was watching it for the night because they were out of town and had a dog and four new kittens. I planned on just ending things, regardless of emotional attachments ensuing—as symbol to Shawn of my friendship and remorse for wrong done, and so summer could become what summers should be. But, when I arrived and saw Lainey in tight tank, small jean shorts, smelling of sweetness perfume from first night and those blue eyes with smile, well, I have weaknesses. Weaknesses¾I am deeply infatuated with innocent love magnetism, weakness, I am unable to really tell her of Shawn, for reasons I later realized were selfish, fear of her maybe wanting back what her and Shawn once had, weakness, for independence she had, sexiness, and how she gave me kisses of ‘don’t leave’ and ‘I need you’.
I stayed there with her that night, and though we avoided what we both longed for with each other, the warmness of bare sweaty bodies close in desert middle of night, we laid together and talked until sunrise of all that you usually find out over months, and she was beginning to trust me and us because I was sincere, honest and genuine.

Shawn acted like he was over us being together after a couple days. He knew we still saw each other, even though I didn’t talk about to anyone. But, it sucked, Shawn and I spent much less time together, compared to the time we would have spent. We skated and hung out at Matt’s, smoked and laughed, learned switchstance nose slides to shuvit out, but there was always a tinge of something, a distance, quiet moments when there would have been this and that conversation, things were not the same between us for a long time¾now that I look back I should have stopped it all with her, because Shawn I truly am sorry for all.

Lainey saw Jason now and then, but I only knew about the times she’d tell me about. He was one of those guys who drove a lowered tuck and parted his hair and tucked in his shirt—nowhere near her type, but that’s the irony of it all I guess. I always knew she told me as little as possible of this relationship which was a mystery even to her closest friends—the “why hims?” and the how much he still calls and comes by; all of which I for the most part ignored, since I guess I had begun to trust her.
It was a Saturday night and we’d heard of a large party at an acquaintance’s house outside of Palmdale in a small freeway town called Acton. Acton is where Lainey and Jason had grown up and even now lived. It was a community knitted to ours because there was no high school out there, many of the kids that lived there had to come to Palmdale to go to school.
After a long dirt road that twisted and curved until you were well lost back up in the rolling sagebrush hills is where found the house. There was a large group of us, Matt, Dale, Shawn, Josh, Luke and Dusty. Lainey was already there, among friends…and Jason.
That night, before we had left, we all joked about him possibly being there and how the scenario would go down because we’d never all been around him together. We congregated in the backyard of this huge house. It wasn’t long before everyone was in various groups and circles, as was the custom to do at parties like this. Jason lingered, and I could see him look in my direction over shoulders or through the crowd. It was the first time I’d actually seen the guy, up close that is. He had parted sandy blond hair, a motocross shirt of some sort on, and he was loud, double fisted with Coors light. His face was narrow, pointed nose and he slurred his loud mouth conversation. I ignored eyes with him, just continued throughout, talking to whomever and jumping from group to group in a drunk-like, social matter¾realizing I knew more people there than I thought I would, most of which I had become acquainted with during the condo days years before.
After an hour or so Jason spotted me in a crowd near him; he came up to me and introduced himself,
“Hey man no hard feelings about the girl, alright? Her and I, were long gone”, he said with a sort of teenage sarcasm and he shook my hand.
“Yeah man that’s cool…” I replied trying, unrudely to move on and find my friends.
“Alriiight dude,” he said with sarcasm walking off.
Ten minutes passed, I found Lainey and Jason in loud argument in a small laundry room on the side of the house. I avoided it. Ten more minutes, I can’t find friends, but I find Lainey alone in the same room, now with tears in eyes—I should have known then that there was more to this than just drunk argument.
I walked in and approached her quietly, putting my arms around her small shoulders. The door slammed open, and quick footsteps behind, then I felt the sharp pain in the back of my head, followed by brief blackness as I fumbled into Lainey. Jason had come in as back was turned and tried to knock me out with a quick blow to the back of my head¾instead he had a hand full of broken fingers. I turned around to him, he was holding his hand with a surprised look of ‘Why not in pain or knocked out.’ I smiled a bit because like Tyson I now had great boxing advantage. I missed my first jab, as he back up, but I followed with the right, two quick shots to his soft lip and cheek, then there was a sudden rush through the door of the crowd and intervention of the fight.
Lainey was lost in the melee against the wall, eyes swollen, probably burnt out and drunk, but really, feeling deep inside satisfaction at this sudden example of ferocious masculinity over small, homely beauty in mad Acton desert night.
A hand pulled me from the yelling voices and “What, What’s happening”—It was a person I had never met, but he told me he was acquainted with an old girlfriend of mine and insured me he’d help find my friends; who suddenly were nowhere. I was thankful, since group of partygoers were actually close friends of Jason’s and surely would have continued his aggression once it was discovered that I was the aim of it.
Once outside, I saw Jason, surrounded by friends, against a fence, crying—seriously crying,
“She’s my girl man, fuck, She’s my girl…” I had to laugh and think, ‘pathetic’, but I stayed out of sight until I saw Dusty, “What the fuck happened” he said laughing, I returned the laughter, “Jason tried to knock my ass out, he snuck up behind….” Then I hear yelling from behind,
“Fuck you, I’m going to kill you, she’s my girl man...” It was Jason walking up a small incline, held on shoulders by two friends, yelling, “Just get the fuck out here,” and I had to laugh at it all, as did Dusty. We walked quickly on in search of the rest so we could get out of there before more happens.
We found half of the group, one being Shawn, who when he heard of the events he laughed boisterously,
“I fucking told you so. Didn’t I tell him so?” Me, my head ached, my buzz was gone and Lainey, Lainey suddenly seemed very distant in my mind. This girl who was probably always insinuating hopeful words and drag alongs that only fueled anger and instigation of ‘once hads’ and ‘what can bes,’ because she needs security and fallback when heart is broken or needs are not taken care of. I wanted Lainey. I wanted her innocence and the quiet, emotion filled way about her, the sexiness that was so unique and different. But, this relationship was something doomed from the get go, I just never acknowledged it, I was always too caught up in this girls little turn ons and subtle attractions.
We talked later that night and she had to whisper because in the background Jason was crying at her window, outside, “Come on Lainey, let me in…” over and over in this pathetic child like moan.

It was never directly stated, or made clear through any particular conversation—and we had lunch a couple days later only to feel the same way we did that first night, quiet, shy-like and unfamiliar¾but we quit seeing each other. In some ways this breaks my heart because I have not talked to or seen the blue eyed angel since, but Shawn and I, we laugh about it among conversation, and often ask, “ why, why so sexy?”

Poison night

So much sin,
one city,
just polluted with light,
that overwhelms thoughts
confuses inhibition
like a young child, lost.
Escape through doors,
break free from smoke,
and people thick,
into warm night air.
Thoughts of you
infect me though,
so I walk slow
to pass time
and to control wobble maybe
as two o'clock lights
explode RED
bright, shine down
on black man menacing
slow straggle like me,
but going the other way,
hands in pockets,
scruffy beard
spray painted speckled gray
comes in close,
leeaaning toward me as we
pass each other,
"Yee-yoo...", low
eyes wide at offer
and behind him come more
devilish demons attack
"Yo man, I got the yee-yoo..."
Can't breath in this places
poison mood,
posions air
steals soul,
the anadote is you...
But,
you're out there
in bright crowded,
lonely night
and I just want to find you
in that club,
probably at corner table,
drink in hand
your loud sexiness drowns
friends laughter,
but silent in the way you stand,
the way you walk,
that way you look when
you want to
eyes soft, mouth broke open
you know what I mean
it's absolutely undeniable,
when you get that way
I've always secretly loved it
turns me on like nothing else,
want it like a drug,
could sit across the room
you unknowing
watch it come to life
and make mens minds
sick sin for what they
want to do to you in dark,
when really,
it's just too much,
they don't know what to do with it
but I always did, always will,
'cause I'm the one,
eventhough fragile, shy and seemingly
insecure...
Music makes walls vibrate
crowds move in sea of
strangers,
but worlds slow,
stop even,
near you...
But, I'm not there
and it hurts,
just want to see that face right now
instead,
sit on street corner
alone
with millions of colors
lighting poisoned faces,
stolen souls,
floating through
the sick air night
of sin city...

The curfew in the Ghetto is twelve...

Did you know the curfew
in the ghetto is twelve...
Black girls,
three of them,
under midnight street light
voices in loud, jubilant laughter,
one on a bike
circa 91,
hand me down pink,
wheel in the back crooked,
rubs and squeaks,
but voices echo,
with black slang swagger,
it's a conversation about last night
and how she saw a shooting star,
and "Swoosh
it shot across the sky...
oh yeah, I seen that
before..."
and it becomes a dream,
they all agree having at some point,
and me I was hidden on the porch
in chair smoking, quiet thought
pipe smoke sweet
floating in view of them
just stopped in front of me...
hundred or so close feet away,
unaware of me there,
lost in their
quiet talk,
just each lost in their own
worlds of words,
all talking at once.
They stop, stand
looking up at the sky
"What is the sky made of?
The Bible says God made the sky in seven days
and in seven days
there's a week somehere,
so in a week he made the world
and just put light in so we could see it,
Yeah, he did..."
and so simple,
but just the truth
and a truth so puren and real,
even to children...
So that I could sit here
now, and like a piano,
I play these keys to take you there,
show you how,
maybe why
the curfew in the ghetto
is twelve...

Not your world, mine....

Today
I went to a parent meeting
for a youth football league...
Now certainly, I never played football
in my youth, I was this
frail toe headed
white boy,
naive and insecure
and the sport never had any attraction
to me, for obvious reasons--
and knew this was to my fathers
disappointment, who wanted
an athlete, and got a rebel...
Today though, I saw the
ingredients to all this
a mish mash of men living vicariously
through children, and
jocks wanting their kids to be jocks,
to share in in that raw
feeling that only comes from
pure ego adreneline, pride pumping blood
that first formed on the battlefields
in victory,
now reproduced on some dried grass
field of a distant desert high school
and these are just kids,
just recently babies,
they still cry when someone says
something mean,
and just enough blood forms on
those little scrapes
that came a dime a dozen in my
childhood,
Large black men,
skinny tall white dads,
stocky, marine hair cut
drill seargent types,
jock of the year
circa 1995,
now, just trying to bring to life
all that we think we need to feel normal
in this nowhere desert place,
when really just perpetuating
the cycle
of egocentric aggression
fueled by all that makes us not normal,
that makes us into killers, politicians,
polluters of social balance...
And me, I stand around,
faded levi 501s,
old, sagged, cause they're
thrift store too short,
chain wallet,
skater shirt on out of my element,
they look at me,
they knew my kind,
back then,
they talked shit to him in lunch aisles,
hit him in the face
drunk at parties,
bumped into him in the hall
on their way to history,
or to meet a group of friends just feet away, laughing.
Now, I invade, I am the enemy,
and maybe because they know I might inject
something into all this
that threatens them,
threatens all they felt then,
want to feel now,
stronger, bigger, faster
when really just ignorant
just the foot soldier in front
who gets the arrow through his skull
in first five minutes of battle,
while I command you from some underground
concrete bunker
protected, and safe...
Yeah, that's the reality of it all
like or it or not
jock fucks
and this makes me smile,
this makes it tolerable for me
to be there,
and my boy of course,
who just wants to be a part of something
just wants to be accepted,
commented on
told he did well,
he will know,
he will know the truth
and never be sucked into
their world, but stay a part of mine.

Locked Out

Close your eyes and wait now,
as heart thump
torpedos poison through bloodstream…
gotta stay here, in this moment
its hard though, won’t let you see the
demon thoughts haunt, pull me away…
Eyes find candle flicker
dancing sideways now
then they find you
as light shadows soft on face,
God, never more beautiful,
never more alive,
sexiness screeeaaams silently
sensuality bleeeds brown through eyes,
lost like me,
quiet,
smile
forms
as you watch her stretched out on her back,
shirt pulled up, secret skin exposed
and I see it in her eyes,
and in yours,
as his fingertips search
slow
along the side of her ribs,
she wants them to be yours
and you,
you want them to be hers
round and round belly button
up to ribs thin flesh corners
I know you want your tongue to touch.
I know this is yours right now,
not mine,
I try to look away but come back
to you squirming inside, afraid I see it…
There’s pain in it,
like wax on soft round nipples
shakes me anxious,
tickles
turns me on in places
nothing ever will…
Come closer to me,
tell me about it,
feel my fear invade
blood red life beneath
as I battle
sword swing killing demon thoughts
I’m not naïve or afraid love,
just curious to be the one
close to that part of youyou won’t let me into…

Two Endings

1

“Hello?”
“Hey Matt.”
“Hey Jan…how are things?”
“OK…fucked up…you know. How are you doing?”
“I don’t know, still pretty fucked up too…Kale and Tom are here right now, we just started drinkin’, I finished calling everyone though...”
“Thanks Matt, I really appreciate you doing that for me… How’d it go?
“About the same as that first night. I did finally talk to Shawn last night though…that was hard, telling him…”
“Oh God, I forgot about Shawn, how’d he take it?”
“Hard…I called ‘em back later and he wouldn’t answer, and nobody there answered today, so I don’t know…I’m guessin’ he’ll show up here tonight or tomorrow.”
“…I miss you guys, you better keep in touch after all this.”
“You know I will.”
“Yeah, but make sure they do too, I know how they are Matt…”
“Yeah, I know, I’ll do my best. Any word on the funeral?”
“We’re still trying to figure out where it’s going to be, but I think it’ll be on Saturday. I’ll probably know for sure tomorrow. Also Matt, I, a, I’m trying to figure out why he was up on that road when it happened, do you have any idea?”
“Yeah, kinda…I didn’t say anything Tuesday because you’d just told me, and you were a mess…we both were a mess…he was coming back from Tehachapi.”
“What would he be doing in Tehachapi?”
“He had a friend there.”
“What kind of friend, a girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Who was she?”
“Sarah.”
“Sarah, Sarah who, did I know her?”
“No.”
“Who was she then?”
“Jan, I don’t...”
“Matt, just be fucking real with me, tell me what was up.”
“She was a girl he was seeing up there, none of us knew her really…they’d met at SlowJoes a while ago.”
“He’d been seeing her for a while?”
“No, he...”
“…And SlowJoes, what, did you guys go there all the time after I stopped living there?”
“No, it wasn’t like that at all Jan, he’d only gone there a couple times. The night he met her I wasn’t even there, he was with Dalton...”
“Oh, of course, Dalton…”
“Just wait, listen…He hadn’t been seeing her for a while, they talked and e-mailed each other off and on after they’d met, months ago, back in like September. But, a couple weeks after she just stopped e-mailing or calling him back. He said she was living with her boyfriend or something at the time…shit Jan, I just found all this out a couple weeks ago.”
“What?”
“He kept it all quiet, even from me. I mean Dalton told me about them the day after they met, at work, but Andy never told us he’d kept in touch with her after that night.”
“So, she had a boyfriend and Andy was getting with her?”
“No, I don’t think he did anything with her back then, or even saw her, they just e-mailed each other and talked on the phone once in a while. She e-mailed him again a few weeks ago, that’s when he started seeing her more seriously… ”
“When did he finally let you in on all this?”
“Well, one night he just started talkin’ about her. He said he’d been talking to her a lot, and driven up there a couple of times to see her…I was surprised, seriously Jan. I went to Slowjoes with him one night to meet her, and her friends...”
“When was this?”
“Couple weeks ago…I wanted to get out, get drunk, hangout with some chicks, ya know? And, I was curious...”
“Yeah, I’m sure you were. Well, what was she like? Was she hot at least?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty…”
“How pretty?”
“Come on Jan…”
“What’d she look like?”
“I don’t know, big blue eyes that kinda stood out, cute face, straight blond hair ‘bout down to her shoulders…a big ass…”
“Big in a good way or big in a bad way?”
“In a good way…”
“What about her friends?”
“Not as hot as she was, they were cool though…look Jan, I gave him a hard time about her at first because of you guys...”
“Don’t give me that shit Matt, I know how you are…”
“Nah seriously, it wasn’t like that…I did, I fucked with him about still being married, but I think it was kinda getting’ to him; he’d get all quiet. She was just how he was dealing with it all, ya know? He was lonely, I mean you haven’t lived there for close to a year now…he told me you’d wanted to divorce him at that point, that you didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore. I didn’t know what to think about it all, I thought you guys were really done, ya know? As a man, I kinda understood it all...”
“Does everyone know about her now Matt, know that he was coming back from seeing her that night?”
“No, it’s not like that. As far as I know Dalton and I are the only ones who knew he’d been seeing her at all, and I tell people that ask, even these guys, I tell ‘em I don’t know why he was on that road; I don’t wanna deal with all that shit right now.”
Silence.
“So, he was sleeping with her huh?”
“I don’t know...”
“Matt, it was three in the morning when he got in the accident, don’t give me that shit, I know he’d tell you…he had huh?’
She begins to cry.
“ Jan…are you gonna be ok with all this?”
“No.”
“God, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have brought all this up right now¾”
“Stop fuckin’ apologizing Matt, you’re only telling me what he should’ve told me...”
“You know he was always madly in love with you, he was constantly telling me how bad he wanted you and Maddy living there again…and most of the time he was trying really hard to be what he thought you wanted him to be.”
“I know…and I know he wanted us back there, but he was only lonely, he wasn’t willing to change like I wanted him to…”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to change like you wanted him to.”
“Either way Matt, his wanting us back wasn’t making it happen. I mean come on, he still got mad at me all the time, and said things to me that were totally out of line...the other day he told me to ‘fuck off’, right in front of Maddy…he doesn’t tell you about those times does he…”
“He didn’t love this girl Jan.”
“How do you know? He was sleeping with her…”
“Come on, you know how that is.”
“Oh, I do? I know you boys, I know it’s always gotta be about that…”
“Come on Jan¾”
“I should’ve expected it I guess…”
“…maybe…”
“It’s just, hearing it like this, now, after he’s gone…it’s all just too damn unfair.”
“Jan, I’m sorry…”

2
“January, when do you have to have it all out of here? Have you talked to his landlord about that yet?” Her mom asks loudly, standing in the middle of Andy’s living room¾it’s a typical square apartment living room, three-cushion couch on one wall and an entertainment center sandwiched between two bookshelves on the other. Her mom looks just like her, straight brown hair that rests just past her shoulders, only where Jan’s has streaks of blond from a Sunday desert sun, her mom’s has streaks of gray¾and like Jan’s always either in a pony tail, or tucked behind her ears. There are likenesses in her mom’s beautiful, aged movie star face, the cursive nose, round, sincere green-blue eyes.
Jan enters the entryway behind her, holding two cardboard boxes in each hand,
“She was nice about it mom, she told me no hurry, it’s the beginning of the month anyway, he just paid rent,” she says, out of breath, dropping the boxes and walking into the living room where she stands next to her mom. “God mom, remember this couch…it’s still nice, kinda,” she says sitting down on the aged blue couch.
She begins looking around the room and noticing the memories, his smell still floating in the air, the angry knuckle imprint in the wall right next to the front door, a glass half full of what looks to be melted ice and coke on the table next to the couch, and his body’s shape, still indented in the cushions of the small white chair where he’d sit to watch TV or write in his notebooks.
She turns, and her eyes find the pictures scattered across the top of the bookshelves. She stands, walks to them quietly, grabs one, holds it a second, holding back the tears, then another, this one of Andy and his mom at his high school graduation
“Things like this mom, this is the kind of stuff I was talking about last night, should I give this to his dad?”
“I don’t know honey, would his dad really want stuff like that? It may just end up in a box somewhere. I think you should save it all for you and Maddy.”
Jan puts that one back, spotting a larger frame further back,
“Mom, look,” she says reaching up and grabbing it. The picture looks down on Andy holding a newborn Maddy in his arms. She holds it there, quietly becoming lost in the image, and soon they’re both staring into it.
Jan begins to cry.
“That’s when I loved him most mom…the day she was born…”
“I know…Gaad, she’s going to miss him soo much...”
Jan’s silent.
Her mom sighs, pulling away, and shaking her head. She walks over to grab an empty cardboard box from the entryway. She picks it up, and walks over to one of the bookshelves full of books, and drops the box right in front of it.
“Did he really read all of these books?” she asks perusing the shelves, her fingers finding titles.
“He read a most of them…he was funny about books.” Jan says, looking up from the picture and walking over to where her mom is. “He was funny like that, he’d buy books at that thrift store up the street, and be all excited about one, then a week later he’d find another one there, and start it; sometimes he’d never go back to finish the first one. Up there, that’s all his writing stuff mom, I want that in a separate box,” she says pointing to a stack of folders and notebooks of various sizes leaned by themselves on the highest shelf. A lot of that I haven’t even seen or read,” she says reaching with her free hand to grab them, but she struggles to grip it.
“Here honey, let me help you,” her mom says, grabbing the stack out with two hands.
“Thanks mommy.”
“Let’s read some of it right now.”
“I don’t know…”
“Let’s…” her mom says, looking at her with this short smile.
“Go ahead,” Jan responds, with the same half smile.
And her mom takes it all over to the couch where she sits down, dropping the stack on her lap. She opens the cover of a square composition book on top¾it’s one of those typical black and white speckled hard covered ones, like you’d buy for school.
“What did he usually write about January?”
“He wrote about all kinds of things,” she says sitting down next to her, the large picture frame still in her hands. “He usually wrote poetry, he wrote a lot of short stories…they were always either about his friends, or girls, he wrote a lot about girls,” she says softly. Jan begins to cry, holding it back. “Mom, when do you think I’ll be able to do things like this without crying? I’m so sick of crying…”
“Hon, it’s only been four days.”
“I know, but I’ve cried enough in those four days…”
“January, it may take months, it may take years. There may be things that will always make you cry, like that picture,” she says softly. “Remember Susan, my friend that that died in that car accident I was in, in high school?
“Yeah.”
“There was this picture I had of my her. Someone took it on our first day of school, our junior year, that year before she died. It was from our waists up, and we were both holding out our t-shirts to the camera, laughing. Susan’s was a black Pink Floyd shirt, with the rainbow thingy, ya know, The Dark Side of the Moon album? Mine, well, actually it was her sisters, but it became mine later ‘cause I wore it so much, had this big picture of Robert Plant on stage, this white button-up shirt opened, barely hanging on his shoulders, his chest all exposed, his skin tight leather pants on, and that curly blond hair just all over the place, God, he was so sexy…the big Led Zepplin logo was across the top in red. We both loved that shirt. I wore it all the time...Anyway, after she died, every time I looked at that picture I’d break down…It would just bring back this flood of memories, that shirt, her smile, god, just thinking about it makes me wanna cry. That was the only picture that really made me feel like that, but I always kept it close to me, in the drawer, by my bed”
It’s quiet a moment.
“But January, let’s read some of his writing, maybe we’ll find some stories in here about you, or a poem…I want to see how he wrote,” she says softly, looking down at the composition book on her lap, opened to the first page, “Here’s a poem, it says ‘Take me away’.”
“Read it to me.”
Her mom begins to read aloud,
“I wanted to escape,
but she pulled me back in by my shirtsleeve,
‘come here’, she said, sweet, low like¾
you know that voice they get
when they want something.
‘What?’ ‘Just…’ and she pulled harder,
then on her tippy toes
she whispered,
lips close to my ear on purpose,
‘you don’t want to go,’
‘Yeah I do.’
‘Then go.’ And she let go, and I fell back,
realizing she was holding me there.
I began to walk backwards, slow,
just looking at her,
her looking at me,
that’s when I get those eyes,
looking through me
like radiation flows through solids,
they’d melt into me
the words, the feelings of wanting and needing.
They’d pull me in¾and before I know it,
I’m walking forward
toward her again,
only because
somewhere down deep I know
the second that door’s closed
she’ll push me into it,
find my lips,
and take me away.’
Is this about you honey?”
“Doesn’t sound like it…I don’t know mom, maybe, he wrote all kinds of things about different girls.”
“What, did he have a lot of girls beside you?” she says looking at her with her ‘concerned’ eyes.
“Before me.”
Her mom skims the following pages and begins to read another poem under her breath. Jan still sits there quietly, now looking off into the wall, as if lost in a memory.
“What’s this?”
“It mentions marijuana here Jan,” and her mom reads it aloud,
“What’s it say?”
Her mom reads it,
‘…Let the pen move across paper,
and marijuana mind take over,
so I can quickly get lost in an old memory,
or new one…’
Did he still smoke pot?”
“Mom, come on, you knew he did. Remember when I came home that time, and it smelt like it? He tried to lie to me about it, but I found his pipe and everything that afternoon. We got into that big fight and I came over after...”
“That’s right…”
“Shit, I wouldn’t doubt it if we found his stash around here somewhere,” she says, setting the picture frame down on the couch and standing up, looking around the room for possible hiding places.
“Here’s another one about a girl...”
“What’s it say, read it to me?” Jan says over her shoulder, now bending down on the floor looking into the cupboards underneath the entertainment center. Her mom begins to read,
‘Sweaty shoulder, sweet,
you know what you do,
and I want it so bad, but can’t,
but would if alone with you.
Steal, then inspire,
A soul darkened by things
that cover up what really matters,
the raw attraction, the touch, close.’ Is this about you?”
“I don’t know mom,” Jan says annoyed, now up off the floor. She walks over to the closet, opens it and begins to look around inside. She pulls out a burgundy backpack from the back corner, “I bet it’s in here.”
“What’s in there?”
“His stash mom,” she says, unzipping a small pocket on the front of the backpack. “Aah, look,” Jan says smiling, pulling out a small, black film container. She walks over and drops the backpack on the kitchen counter, then pops open the container, looking inside. A smile forms on her face. Then she goes back to the pocket of the backpack, “His pipe and lighter are in here too, all of it conveniently hidden in one place, some things just never changes with him…”
“What? Let me see,” her mom says, finally looking up from the notebook, and Jan holds it all up for her to see.
“Wow honey…he didn’t do that around Maddy did he?” she asks with her ‘concerned’ eyes again, squinting slightly soft wrinkles extending out around them.
“I hope not. I don’t think he’d do that,” Jan says shaking her head.
“But January, come over here, let’s find stories in here about you and him, things he wrote about you…maybe that last one was honey?”
“I don’t know mom, why does it matter? Shit, half the time he wrote about girls from his past. Those could be poems about some girl he dated years ago.” Jan comes over and sits down next to her mom on the couch, “let me see it for a second,” she says rudely taking the composition book off her mom’s lap¾at which her mom gives a dirty look.
“Hold on mom, I just wanna look through it for a second,” Jan says, flipping through the pages, reading parts of things…“This may not be his recent stuff…” She reads a poem under her breath. None of these sound like they’re about me…wait, here it says Sarah, the title of this is Sarah, I bet this is about her,” Jan says, beginning to read.
“Who’s Sarah?”
“Sarah, that’s her.”
“Who?”
“You know, the one in Tehachapi, the one he was coming back from seeing that night…it looks like there’s a whole story here about her…Isn’t that sweet,” Jan says sarcastically.
“Read it to me, what’s it say?” “I don’t know if I wanna read this right now,” Jan says closing it, looking up at her mom leaving her thumb on the page. “Let’s smoke some of that pot instead,” she says, looking at her mom with a smirk, then at the backpack.
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m dead serious,” she says getting up, dropping the notebook on the couch. She walks back over to the backpack, “It’s just you and me here, nobody has to know.”
“Honey, I haven’t smoked pot in twenty years, I’m afraid of what would happen to me.”
“Come on mom, nothing’s going to happen to you. It’ll be fun.”
“No honey I don’t want to, you can if you want though,” her mom says, picking the composition book back up, and re-opening it on her lap.
“Mom, come on, I don’t wanna do it by myself.”
“Why not, it might make you feel better,” she says looking over at Jan who’d already began to take a small nugget from the little black container, placing it carefully into the small, green metal pipe.
Jan walks back over and sits down next to her mom, and holds the pipe and lighter up to her, “Come on mommy, do it for me, I won’t say anything.”
“No,” her mom says, laughing at her persistence, not looking up from the composition book.
“Stop reading that for a second and look at me.”
Her mom looks up at her, then at the pipe. She gives Jan this crinkled forehead, contemplative look, then smiles, drops the notebook and takes the pipe, putting it to her lips and motioning Jan to light it for her. Jan smiles and lights it as her mom puffs away, then coughs loudly with a sloppy exhale of smoke.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” cough, cough, “yeah I’m fine,” she says regaining her breath, giving the pipe back to Jan, who smokes it with flawless exhale¾her mom watching intently.
“What, do you smoke all the time too?”
Jan shakes her head, “Come on mom you know me, I haven’t smoked since I was in high school.” Which is a lie, she smokes occasionally with her friends, but never around Andy; that would’ve been hypocritical of her, for her constant harassing him about it.
She gives it back to her mom, who this time hits it much smoother, giving only a small cough and laugh as she exhales, “Honey, we definitely didn’t have weed that tasted like this when I was young,” she says smiling, handing Jan back the pipe. They both look at each other with red, squinted eyes and start laughing.
“We should read this story, or poem, or whatever it was,” her mom says, the notebook already re-opened on her lap. She looks at Jan who thinks about it for a second.
“I don’t know mom. I mean you can if you want, I just don’t know if I wanna read that right now.”
“I understand.” Her mom says, putting her hand on her leg, “I shouldn’t push it.”
It’s quiet a minute,
“OK, but you read it to me, and if I say stop, stop.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”“ I’m so high honey…” her mom says laughing.
“You’re such a light weight mommy.”
“January, it’s been twenty years, give me a break…Alright, let’s read this, you ready?”
“Yeah.”
“…OK, here goes, ‘If you drive west, past the last of the happy track homes, toward only the brown emptiness and setting sun of the hot desert afternoon you can eventually turn left onto an ancient street that leads due north, and is strewn with potholes the size of giant’s footsteps; where only desert sage, joshuas, and 110 degree onion fields, full of dark skinned migrant workers scatter the sides. Here, you climb from the desert ocean that stretches off into the horizon, up the fingers of rolling hills, into green mountains where pine trees scatter as you go higher, and rows of giant metal tower wind propellers¾like enormous robot guardians¾protect the small pocket of heaven on the other side of the hills from the despair of the desert. I fell in love with this drive, on that lonely road, because I could stretch my mind out across the openness of those scenic sunset afternoons and straighten out aching frustrations. And, I could leave the desolate desert sadnesses behind, and escape into the place on the other side; a little oasis in the hills where Sarah lived…’ He tried to be very poetic didn’t he?”
“Yeah, I never liked it really. He didn’t used to write like that. It’s funny, after he started reading certain books his writing would change, he would start to sound like one author, then another…sometimes it was kinda cool, ‘cause he’d make it his own, yet kinda theirs at the same time, ya know?” she says softly with sadness in her voice, “But, I didn’t like all the wordiness…I liked his writing when he was younger, it was raw, less manufactured…looking back I probably gave him too hard a time about it though…” she ends sadly.
“Are you sure your in the mood for this right now honey? I mean, there are a lot of other things we need to do.
“No mom, come on, keep going.”
“Ok… ‘First though, I have to take you back to that night, long before I fell in love with that road, and the place it led me; back to the night I first saw her.
‘See, my wife and I had just separated. It had only been a couple weeks since she’d moved out, and I remember being emotionally drained from the stresses of arguments between her and I about money, about our daughter, and what ever else she could conjure up on any given day.’” Her mom looks at her, smiles, goes back to reading.
“ ‘On top of that I’d just started the new school year teaching sixth and seventh graders, which meant the addition of one hundred and fifty or so eleven and twelve year olds to my relentless anxiety and chronic, incurable headache¾that for weeks never seemed to go away, no matter how many Excedrin I took, producing in me a melancholy that bordered on depression.
‘So, when Dalton insisted I go with him to this local bar/nightclub called Slowjoes to unwind on some random Wednesday night, I welcomed the opportunity. See, here in the desert, any bar that played loud, trendy music at least one night a week, and had a place to dance, could be considered a nightclub I suppose, and Slowjoes could be considered our local ‘cool’ nightclub¾even though it was usually full of country cowboy types, or meat head pool players drunk on Miller high life.
‘On Wednesdays it was ladies night there, and females eighteen and over got in free, and drink specials meant those old enough would laugh and dance drunk late into the night; and I liked the idea of that. Thing was, I’d never been to Slowjoes before, I’d only heard stories from Dalton¾who’d recently ended his relationship of three years and become quite the local there. He’d been telling me for weeks that there were girls there now and then worth the trip, and hangover the next morning¾but, I always knew that in the desert the attractive drunk jewels I liked to imagine being there were just that, conjured imaginings, the reality of course being you see maybe one or two mediocre young girls, who from a distant are sometimes dissent at first, then hotter as the rum sinks in.
‘Upon entering SlowJoes there’s large, overweight meathead bouncer that pats you down and checks your ID with FBI intention in their eyes¾serious, looking through yours as they hold it next to your face.
‘Once inside, there’s a large patio of sorts, with long, rectangular windows that open out to the sidewalk on one side, booths along the opposite side, and tables scattering the floor between. Then, there there’s the soup of people to cut through, scattered around the tables¾jock types with shiny styled hair, polo or collared button up shirts on, attractive young high school looking girls under their arms, old men with gray hair, and tight levis, t-shirts tucked in, fat girls with eighties styled bangs sprayed up high; and once through the crowd there’s a small, low-key bar that’s off to one side with stools in front of it.
‘We planted ourselves on two of them where Dalton knew the bartender who kept ‘em strong as he watched our ‘vanishing rum and Cokes show’; one after another disappearing from the bar top…’ “Did he really drink like that January?”
“No, not usually, not rum and coke. When he was with me it was always beer, he didn’t usually drink hard alcohol anymore. But, here, he’s out with Dalton, so I guess he’s gotta drink the harder stuff, ya know?”
She smiles, and nods, then continues,“ ‘…until we were finally buzzed enough to check out the dance floor in the deep, dark back of the place.
‘Dalton looked at me and smiled. He stood up, and I stumbled off my barstool, gathered my senses and had to quickly follow him to the dance floor¾who like a war general pushed his way through the crowd making a path.
‘I knew the dance floor was where the girls would be if there were any there truly worth looking at, or wanting to be looked at. And this is where you get to see female’s true sexinesses, the whole floor was alive, moving to music that bounced and pulsated off black lit walls, as lights flashed above generating an array of colors illuminating the bobbing heads of the dancers.
‘We became part of the stew of sideliners¾boys standing around watching the girls, with either no intention to dance, or like us, eyeing out the prospects. We stood there a second, right on the edge of the floor, mapping out who might be hidden amongst the random desert crowd; myself still finishing the sixth or so Rum and Coke--drinks weren’t aloud on the dance floor and there was one of those large, overweight meathead men with a bully mean face hiding there in a dark corner, who I would’ve never seen if Dalton hadn’t put his arm out to stop me just before I stepped out onto the floor, then motioning with his eyes to the large man whose own eyes were squinted and focused only on me, wanting so bad to spring in with all his slow fatness and use unnecessary force to fling me off into the distance; just to make an example of me.
‘At this point I was really jonesing for a face, just one alone, one that lit that fire, and would allow me to just pull up with this cute shiny smile, move in close, and feel alive with the raw, nervousness of newness.
‘Dalton disappeared onto the floor, and I watched him find a small dark corner where two young looking, dark skinned, latino girls danced in the darkness. They had pretty Spanish faces, big brown eyes, with tight pants, and Dalton could dance, moving in low to them at first, smiling, them smiling and laughing in return.
‘I filtered through the crowd with my eyes, hoping to spot that one lonely jewel who couldn’t resist…then there she was.
‘It was as if every face on the floor disappeared leaving only hers¾and I know that sounds cliché and corny, but this is literal, she was actually that excitably hot looking, beer goggles or no beer goggles, just one of those faces that stands out in any crowd, soft glow skin, full lips, and these big blue marbles for eyes that sparkled under the reds, purples and greens of lights above, straight blond hair loose and bouncing on her shoulders.
‘I walked over to a table to set down my now empty glass, and moved in to see her from a different angle. She didn’t appear to be with any boys, just two girlfriends that smiled and laughed at each other as they danced together. I moved onto the floor slowly as the song came to an end, and as I got closer I could feel my heartbeat thumpthumpthump as I began to bounce and dance my way slowly through the bodies that bumped into me as the new song began.
‘I pushed through quicker, came up behind her and started moving with her¾at a distance at first, and her friends smiled at me, her unaware. Then I came in really close, and put my nose in her hair, her hands and arms brushed mine¾which when she felt she immediately turned to face me surprised with those blue marbles shimmering in colorful strobe, and her big smile greeting me.’
‘What’s your name,’ I said, ‘Sarah,’ she responded, surprised, and squinted her eyes, unsure, then turned away from me, but continued to move with me, close.’
‘It’s magnetics pulling when you feel it on both sides, and she liked my dance moves, nice guy smile, and fingertips slowing inching their way up and down the lower part of her arms as she danced closer. It was then that I knew she was becoming turned on by the same newness tinge¾when all that matters is that feeling, and I was getting my fill just being there next to her.”
“Stop there.” Jan said, putting her hand on her mom’s arm, who just looks at her for a second with her ‘concerned’ eyes.
“What’s wrong?” and Jan is silent, eyes closed, clearly trying to hold back tears.
“That was us once…and he would write about me like that mom, and I loved it. I loved it when it was about me…but I never told him. I can’t ever tell him now, or listen to him defend himself, defend his writing to me like he used to…God, why did he ever have to defend it to me. It sucks it was ever like that. Why didn’t I just tell him I loved what wrote, even if I didn’t like how he wrote it…I was so fuckin’ stupid for being that way to him.”

3
“Hello?”
“Matt, it’s me.”
“Hey Jan, how are ya?”
“Tired, hanging in there though. How ‘bout you?”
“Hung-Over, we drank a lot last night…”
“I’m sure you did…”
“So, what’s going on?”
The funeral’s going to be Saturday, at that church Eric and Susan got married at, over on P, ‘member? We’ll have the services there, and then I thought just his closest friends, ya know, whoever you think, could come to the cemetery with us.”
“Ok, I’ll tell a few people. It’ll probably be the same people you’d pick...”
“I know, I just don’t wanna even think right now, I’m exhausted…and Matt, just try not to leave anybody out, anyone that might get upset they weren’t invited…”
“I know, I won’t. Is there anything else you need?”
“Did you call that girl Sarah, or has someone gotten in touch with her?”
“No. I don’t have her number.”
“I wonder if she even knows about Andy?”
“I guess it’s possible she read about it in the paper or something, because I’m sure she’s been trying to call him...don’t you have his cell?
“See, that’s the thing, I couldn’t find her name in his cell phone, or written down anywhere...It’s turned off, I didn’t want to answer it if it rang…”
“You should turn it on, see if she’s called.”
“OK, hold on…there’s twelve calls, Larry, Larry, No number…Who’s Larry?”
“Larry, that’s her.”
“What?”
“He kept it in his phone under Larry so you wouldn’t question who she was, or why this random girl’s name was in there.”
“I never even touched his cell phone…”
“I don’t know Jan, I think he thought that if you found out about him and any girl you’d never go back to him, he’d loose you forever…I think somewhere deep inside he always thought you’d get back together…someday.”
“Here’s her number,” she says looking at the phone, “there’s Larry and LarryHm, maybe I’ll just call her.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know, I found this notebook he had, it has stories and poems in it that I think are all about her…I just kind of felt like maybe she needed something of his, and maybe she wants to come to the funeral.”
“Don’t you think that’d be weird?”
“Yeah maybe, I don’t know, it seems like the right thing to do, don’t you think?”
“Let me call her first and make sure she knows about it, then you can call. That would really suck, you having to tell her he’s dead, ya know?”
“Yeah...I guess.”
“Give me the numbers.”

4
“Hello, is Sarah there?”
“Yeah, hold on, ‘Sarah, phooone.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, Sarah?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Jan, January, Andy’s wife.” There’s a second or two of silence. “Hello, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she says softly.
“I know this is weird, but Matt told me he’d talked to you, and I wanted to at least invite you to the services myself? Do you know where that’s at?”
“Yeah.”
“I, a, I wanted to give you something too.”
“What.”
“It’s a notebook, Andy had this notebook with a bunch of stuff he’d written about you in it…”
Sarah begins to cry.
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “Thanks for calling…I don’t know if I’m gonna go yet...”
“Don’t feel weird about going...”
“I know…I’m sorry this is just weird talking and crying on the phone with you.”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ll bring the notebook to the funeral. If you do decide to go, and feel up to it, look for me, and I’ll give it to you, ok?”
“Thanks Jan…I do appreciate you calling.”

5
“So, I think I have everything…Jan, are you sure you’re gonna be ok tonight? I can stay as long as you need.”
“No mom, I’ll be fine.”
“Maddys finally sleeping?”
“Yeah…today was hard.”
“I know. It’s been heart wrenching watching her go through this…are you sure you’re gonna be ok alone?” she says putting her hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah, I’d tell you if I wasn’t mom. I need some quiet, alone time.”
“So, she never showed up to get that from you yesterday?” her mom says spotting the notebook on the small table in the entryway.
“No, but Matt told me he saw her there, in the back after things had started.”
“It would’ve been weird don’t you think.”
“Maybe, I kinda wanted to see what she looked like though, ya know?”
“What did Matt say she looked like?”
“Pretty. I was actually thinking about calling her tomorrow, maybe meeting her for lunch sometime.” “You’re that curious huh?”
“I don’t know mom, I just feel like I wanna get rid of that thing, it belongs to her…”
“Send it to her.”
“Nah, I wanna see her…” at that her mom laughs.
“Did you finish reading through it?”
“No, I haven’t opened it since that day.”
“January, we should finish that story, it didn’t look very long,” her mom says picking the notebook up.
Jan looks at it for a second, “OK.” She grabs it and they both walk over to the couch.
“You want something to drink, some coffee, I have some left here?” Jan asks, just before she sits down.
“Yeah, coffee would be good.”
She walks over and returns with a cup, handing it to her mom, who’s already opened the notebook up to the story.
“Do you even remember where we left off?” Jan asks sitting down next to her.
“Umm, I don’t know, I was so high honey, “ and they both start laughing.
“No, seriously, I think we were right here, on the dance floor, ‘I was getting my fill…are you ready for this? Maybe it’s a bad idea right now.”
“Just read it, I’d rather you be here, reading it to me, ‘cause you know I’d end up reading it by myself if it sat here long enough, and I’d be alone...”
“Alright…here goes, ‘and I was getting my fill just being next to her, and she moved in closer, the early shyness already beginning to disappear. She smelt like that section in the back of Victoria’s Secret stores, just this turn me on mixture of berry fragrances, sweaty sweet. Her skin was moist and sticky, and she’d dance with her back turned, putting her ass into me¾bare skin exposed just above the top of her jeans where the purple velvet of her g-string underwear showed. I put my lips on her shoulder to taste the salty sweetness, running my fingers softly across the small of her back, around onto her tummy as we moved together. She leaned her head back a little, and exposed her neck, and I couldn’t resist kissing it. When I did she snapped forward, turned and gave me this smirk as goose bumps formed across her shoulders. I just laughed.
‘Her friends found guys, then a table in the back; clearly getting tired, and that’s when I knew the night was coming to an end. The crowd on the floor had shrunk to four or five dancing couples. Her friends were still smiling drunk, but I could tell they were board and ready to go¾this I knew from their ‘let’s go’ faces looking at us from across the dance floor.
‘At first she ignored them, just smiled and continued to dance close. Then she turned to me and said, ‘I gotta go…’ frustrated
‘You gonna give me your number or what?’ I said to her. ‘I, a, I kinda have a boyfriend…’ she said looking at me with this ‘I’m sorry’ look in those bright blue eyes.
‘So.’
‘Here,’ and she read the number to me as I put it into my phone, then she tugged me close and whispered, ‘I gotta go, I had fun though…call me…’ her lips and soft voice close to my ear, before slowly pulling away.”
“That’s all there is Jan, it stops there.” Jan’s mom examines it a second; “there’s a poem on the next page, but no more of that story, it stops right there in the middle of the page.”
“He never finished it…”

6
“Jan?” and she turns to see her, “Hey, I’m Sarah.”
“Hey Sarah, nice to meet you.” Jan says half standing from the booth seat, reaching out to shake her hand. “Do you even like Italian food, I didn’t even ask. I just said here because it’s right off the freeway; I didn’t really know where to go…”
“No, this place is fine.”
There’s an uncomfortable silence as Sarah sits down and gets situated. Jan watches her, noticing her flawless soft skin face, and big blue eyes bright from the sunlight that poured through the window next to them. But her hair, it was a darker brown, with red streaked through, not blond like Andy had described it in the story¾and it brings out the tints of blues in her eyes even more.
“Well, this is…awkward.” Sarah says looking at Jan, who’d forgotten she was staring.
“It is a little weird huh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you into this kind of situation, I just wanted to have some closure to this maybe?”
“No, I understand, and I’m sure you were dying to see what I looked like,” Sarah says laughing, and Jan blushes for a second, smiling at her. “Really Jan, I wouldn’t have come if I felt too weird. I didn’t know how I would feel, I’ve just become numb lately, ya know. How are you doing?”
“OK.”
“Yeah?”
More silence.
“Oh, here’s that notebook,” Jan says reaching into her purse, pulling it out, and handing it across the table to her.
Sarah takes it, and holds it in both hands a second, just looking at it. Then she laughs.
“He gave this to me right before we’d quit talking back in October…I found it, buried under some stuff on my dresser a month ago; it’s what made me e-mail him again. When he came back over for the first time I gave it back to him, and told him to write in it again for me…”
“What did he tell you about us?”
“He told me the truth Jan. He told me you were separated, and that things were confusing. I knew he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what would happen with you two. I could always see it in his eyes when he’d talk about you. He tried to warn me about himself, and how crazy he was,” she says putting quotes in the air around ‘crazy’, and Jan smiles. It was quiet a moment. “But, I don’t know…at that point I was becoming caught up…when we first met I was still living with Michael, my ex, and I think you’d just moved out, so we never really talked seriously about being together or anything. When I wasn’t with Michael, and he was still kinda in the same situation, I didn’t really know what to think. He’d tell me to be patient, that you guys were done and it was only a matter of time before one of you filed for divorce…”
“I don’t know, we were done at that point, I think, but he should’ve been honest about it all with me. What happened with you and Michael?”
“I wasn’t happy for a long time, I mean we’d been together since we were sixteen, we were just kids when we met, things change...There’s a story in there about the night Andy met you.”
“Really? That must be new, or new since I’d seen it last…”
Jan says looking at her look at it, “were you guys falling in love?” Jan asks impulsively, then realizing it was a bit abrupt.
There’s silence. Sarah looks out the window at a tree tugged and pulled by the afternoon wind. Jan just sits there looking at her, at her profile, and those giant blue eyes staring off through the bare branches.
“I don’t know…I was really just discovering him ya know…”
“I’m sorry.” Jan says looking down, “that wasn’t a fair question…”
“Jan, he hadn’t told me everything, like the fact that you didn’t know about me yet, I didn’t know about that until Matt told me,” Jan’s eyes widen, unaware, “I just liked spending time with him, ya know? He was always a total sweetheart, and so into me all the time…but he never stayed the night, even though I always asked him to…” she says looking across the table at Jan, sincerity in her blue eyes as if she needed her to understand, “I don’t know, there were just little things that made me kinda apprehensive about us…”
“Did you guys sleep together that night, you know the night he…”
Sarah looks down; trying to hold back tears, but begins to cry. When Jan sees her reaction she begins to cry too.
There’s a long silence. People sitting around them are looking at them; both have tears streaming down their faces. They notice, and both grab their napkins at the same time, looking at each other, laughing.
“God, I must look horrid, do I have mascara everywhere,” Sarah says, and Jan reaches across the table,
“Just a little right here,” she says, wiping it with her finger.
“Thanks.”
“What about me?”
“No, I think you got it all,” Sarah says smiling.
“I guess this is why nobody’s come to take our order yet,” Jan says, laughing.
It’s quiet a moment.
Jan smirks, “Andy, he, a, he had a lot of issues. I think I saw sides of him that nobody else ever saw, or ever will now…there was an anger there I didn’t understand, and I was too afraid it would never go away. I just couldn’t get past that I guess. He couldn’t control it around Maddy and I; that scared me. And, every time I thought we were back to normal he’d have a blow out, or he’d say something really insulting and fucked up to me. It just got to a point where I couldn’t go back to constantly being in fear of setting him off…and being let down. I loved him, I always will, but I deserved better, that’s all there was to it.”
“He told me you thought he was crazy, I never understood that, I never even saw him get mad.”
“Exactly, you never saw him like that…you never wanted to see him like that Sarah, it was a completely different side of him.”
“What would he do?”
“I’ve seen him rage, screaming and hitting things. He broke two or three of our phones, and I mean to pieces, not just so they didn’t work, throwing them against walls. He punched holes in walls, he kicked over our dinning room table once, and cracked it right down the middle, right in front of Maddy. One time he cornered Maddy and I in her room, literally sitting on the ground, screaming and crying like a child, right in front of us, never seeming to care what he was doing to her…”
“Wow, I had no idea…how’s Maddy doing?”
“She misses her daddy…she’s been very quiet and sad. Dealing with her lately has been breaking my heart more than anything else…”
“She’s gorgeous Jan.”
“Thanks.”
“Look Jan, I’m really sorry if what was going on shouldn’t have been going on yet. I don’t know. I just really liked him ya know. I was just kinda taking it one day at a time…”
“We wouldn’t have ever gotten back together…I just wish he would’ve been straight with me about you that’s all.”
“Yeah, I know…do you have somebody?”
“No, I don’t do anything but go to school and hang out with Maddy. I never went anywhere, or met anybody. I couldn’t believe he’d started going to Slowjoes right after I had moved out, like he wanted to find somebody.” At that Sarah smiles.
“Slowjoes, God, that’s right...”