Si Usted Me Necesita...

I won't be easy to find alcoholico de pueblo in Salsipuedes middle of nowhere, Mexico far enough down the baja where you run out of beach and run into rocky inhospitable coast not even in una casa more like una choza wearing a perpetual week-old beard where the coast looks like...... hmmm upside-down senos (not to be coarse) but I'll be around Well, there or in town for cervezas and arroz my dog in the truck I'll be the one with Doc Martens & guitar no phone or address just ask for the gringo chistoso they'll know who you mean and point you down a long dirt road towards Fin del Mundo both in name and in purpose waiting for perdon o muerte whichever comes first or maybe both You'll be expected an extra cup, an extra plate but only one cama just for me so you can't stay long probably not even worth the effort to talk to a broken old young man no good to anyone anymore anytime except my dog and my bartender but if you're in the area within a hundred miles or so and you want to say 'hello' I promise to kiss you goodbye

Égoïste

I used to have a real job. A real boss, 401k, bi-weekly paychecks - the whole 9 yards. And because I wasn't bound by the constraints of family, friends or a social life, I used to work relatively long hours. The only problem with that is, at that time, I lived about an hour commute away from the office. So working until 10-11 o'clock 5-6 nights a week, then driving 40+ miles home, sleeping for 4-5 hours, then getting up and driving another hour back into work got a little old after a while. So I was left with 2 basic options - either sell my house and get a place in the city OR find a cheap little studio downtown to crash after working late. I opted for door number two. I found a place about 2 blocks from my office. It was an unfurnished loft in a converted bottle factory (glass, not baby). Nothing extraordinarily special about it - about 600 sq ft of open space with ladder access to a raised sleeping area, but it was perfect for my needs. And it had a lot of good light, which was unfortunate because I didn't think I'd see much of the place during the day. I signed a 6-month lease with an option for month-to-month after that. I bought a cheap couch, a platform bed and stashed a week's supply of clothes in the closet. It was pretty sweet for a while. Kinda like my own little private hideout, a safehouse that only I knew about. Until I made the mistake of letting someone else in on the secret. There was this admin in Finance. We had exchanged pleasantries and innuendo for a few weeks until one night when we were the last two people in the office. I was working late. She was working late. We went for drinks afterwards. We wanted a little privacy. You get the picture. This went on for the better part of 2 months. We'd work late, get drunk then go back to my place and have at it. We even took advantage of the close proximity to have a few long "lunches" as well. We'd come back to the office with our hair mussed and clothes wrinkled, but I don't think anyone suspected anything nefarious. A little background on her - early 20's, graduated from a private catholic college in Texas, tight swimmer's body, dating a 3rd year med student. It would be fair to say that she didn't have a lot of bedroom experience up until that point in her life. And the experience she did have wasn't much more than the drunken-frat-boy "grope'n'poke" variety. Since her boyfriend spent a lot of time at school, they didn't have much of a chance to spend much time together. So she really came of age bedroom-wise while we were together. So anyway, this goes on a bit longer until she starts feeling guilty about her boyfriend and decides that she needs to spend more time with him. She tells me that she can't do this any longer and breaks it off. She even gave her notice at our company and started working for the census bureau. I was definitely ok with it because I was getting even less sleep than when I was driving all the way home each night. And it wasn't like I had anything invested in her except the physical thing. So I stopped seeing her...... for about a month. She developed this habit of hanging out with her friends at a downtown bar and getting too drunk to drive home. So she'd walk over to my loft and knock on the door to see if I was there. This happened once every couple of weeks. I'd let her in, put her to sleep in my bed then I'd go sleep on the couch. Then she'd come over to the couch and start kissing my neck. I'd tell her to knock it off because I had to go into work early. Then she'd start rubbing my chest. So we'd end up making out for a while. Out of a convoluted respect for her relationship with her boyfriend, I wouldn't go any further than that. A few months of this goes by. It starts getting pretty old for me. I got the place so I could get some sleep after working late, but now I was sleeping way less if at all. So she comes over late one Friday night. After her engagement party. Smashed as she could be. I tell her that she can sleep on the bed but she better stay there. I lay down on the couch and go to sleep. I wake up about 7am when I feel her on top of me, completely undressed. I tell her to cut it out. She starts doing certain things to me (for the sake of decency, I'll leave it at that). I push her away and tell her to get off me. She starts doing something to me even more provocative. I'm a man. I have weaknesses. I roll over on top and enter her. Nothing intimate. Nothing affectionate. Just going through the motions to get it over with. I look down to see her avoiding eye contact with me as her eyes almost start to tear up. I couldn't freaking believe she was pulling that shit. I roll off her said things that I regret. Pretty much a total prick. Things like "what the hell did you expect me to do?" and "what's your f-ing problem?". You know, being the sensitive guy I am. She stopped coming over after that.

Yet

Grown up to be a woman yet still a little girl inside Settled for a boy yet still longing for a man Found her purpose yet not the one she hoped it would be Living with uncompromising honesty yet still hiding one dark secret Content to wear jeans and a sweater yet gazes longingly at the gown in the window Pleased with her life yet holding out hope for another Grasped hard-learned lessons yet feels like a schoolgirl next to him Sees the beauty around her yet dreams of somewhere else

Tuesday at The Corner Bar & Grille

i should have known better i had no business being there but she laughed when i hesitated "as if you could still charm my pants off" "you know we're not 18 anymore" she said she could only meet at lunch she worked evenings at Ballys spinning class til 5, pilates at 7 she'd be at the Corner after her shower just to talk & hear about the Alison i was cautiously cautious at first we had a past and she had a present married a decade, 3 kids of her own one played the piano, 2 danced ballet she lulled me into apprehensive optimism the conversation flowed then ebbed she paused then asked if i was happy "youve known me since i was 16" "you ever know me to be happy?" i noticed her eyes were as weary as my own right then i hoped we could be friends and she told me she decided to be happy right after her dad died last year it got closer to 7 and she had to go sometimes her husband brought her lunch i stepped up to hug her goodbye as we stood shivering outside the bar i swear to God i wanted to be friends but the our lips somehow met our bodies somehow embraced "lets go sit a minute in my car" she said as she took me by my hand i should have known better i had no business being there but it was cold & maybe i could make her happy she drove a few blocks away, quiet she was going to be late anyhow her tiny hands in mine, it began slowly at first, then with a hunger then with a longing, i began to drown she unbuttoned my shirt, 6 buttons down then my belt as she unzipped her pants i looked around to make sure we were alone both of us half-naked under the streetlight the windows fogged, streaked by fingerprints i saw the truth as she crawled in the backseat leopard-print bra and laced black thong no way she'd wear that just for work it should have been boy-shorts & jogging bra she knew we'd be here when she woke this morning i should have seen this coming i should have known better theres no way i should be here right now but i still crawled back to be with her next to the child safety seat and bookbag we couldnt be friends after this we would be something else entirely stolen glances as we past in the street she'd be someone to give me what she wanted me not man enough to give her what she needs

The Facade

I just happened to be positioned behind her as she mingled at a cocktail party, a drink in her right hand so she could be demonstrative with her ringed left. She was halfway through telling a woman ten years younger about the roses her husband had bought herfor her birthday and the "just precious" construction paper card her son made her in art class, concluding with "and the he hugged me and told me I was the beautifulest mommy in the whole world!". I just shook my head, thinking about the last time I'd seen her - checking her re-applied lipstick in my passenger-side visor mirror before she returned to work. I offered her a piece of gum as she reached to open the door. But her decade-long marriage must have improved over the last three months. I took my time pouring myself a drink as she continued her soliloquy, no audience in particular, oblivious to my proximity. Now talking about her job, how embarassed she was when her boss singled her out for praise for her "invaluable contribution" and he "wouldn't know what to do without her". I reflexively shook my head, knowing her role to be a faceless administrative drone, reviewing paperwork and spell-checking other's work. I was courteously apologetic as I brushed by, spilling my drink down her dress, name-brand but purchased during offseason clearance. Her face went from shock to anger to recognition to surprised to unsure to uncomfortable over the next few seconds. Had I overheard her well-rehearsed script, her smoky mirror? She looked down to the floor, then back at me and cautiously gestured to the back door. I brushed some invisible lint from my lapel, grabbed the hand of a younger woman and walked away.

Particle Board

You stood two steps behind him as he unlocked the door to his 2nd floor apartment with a partial view of the pool & the highway Carrington Place or Crane's Landing or The Meadows He walked in, flipping the light switch a black halogen pole lamp illuminates the foyer you step cautiously onto the neutral linoleum your heels sticking a bit, leather on plastic He walks four or five steps into the kitchen opening the cabinet, you know the kind tan pressed wood that swells when wet he withdraws a bottle of peppermint schnapps he rests the bottle on the laminate countertop youre still wearing your charcoal gray peacoat as he gestures to Sanyo cd player and asks you to put on some "mood" music Flipping through his random collection The Killers, Creed, the Crue & Chili Peppers "hey, just push play" he calls over to you Sex of Fire begins to play from the tinny speakers He sets down two plastic schnapps-filled glasses on the black particle board coffee table that he bought in a box & assembled with an allen wrench water rings & ciggy burns scattered randomly he makes room for you on his futon you remove your coat, draping it on his gamer rocker he leans over as you sit beside him his goatee tickles your chin as you kiss you look around while he squeezes your breast aluminum, particle board, plastic and polyester a lack of permanence and perspective all of it garbage within five years, maybe less Is that where you really want to be? hooked up with some random who smells like Axe while I'm at home on my leather chaise making out with a waitress from Applebees

The Pill

Sulphur in her mouth cursing the physician so sickened by the treatment she doesn't even realize she no longer has the disease

Subtle

Its the little things that let me know she's been here (when she not supposed to be) still-warm water droplets in my tub the scent of a cologne I haven't worn in a while Diorskin Nude inside the collar of my favorite shirt My bed a little too well-made her silhouette barely graces my pillow my robe hung a little too neatly on the closet door HF Saint upside down in my bookcase Damien Rice at the top of my playlist Prescriptions aligned in the medicine cabinet My notebooks, dog-earred and well-read a cigar missing from my humidor (not one of the good ones though) Maybe I shouldn't be away from the house for so long maybe I should keep all the windows locked but then who would keep me company?

Uninvited

I heard footsteps walking up the path to my house But I had sent no invitations I had made no appointments No welcome mat in front of my door Then a delicate knock on unstained oak and a silhouette against the frosted sidelights She had no way of knowing anyone was home No lights, no sound, mailbox overflowing with postcards Her frailty calmed my unease What danger could she possibly pose? I unlatched the deadbolt, removed the chain Cracked the door and let her inside She said she's driven by this house for years always wondering what it was like inside finally worked up the courage to knock Grateful to find someone inside I hadn't wanted/expected company But still I said nothing as she walked through the first floor and began to turn on all the lights She seemed to know her way around Removing two mugs from the pine hutch and brewed coffee for me, tea for her as we sat on opposite ends of my couch Obviously incapable of doing any harm to a calloused, caustic man like me I didn't thank her for her warmth But I didn't latch the door when she left Afterwards, she came and went as she pleased sometimes I was home, other times not Though aware of one unspoken rule Make yourself at home, but respect locked doors My bedroom, the basement, the garage All else was hers to explore, to wander For which she appeared to be content Even when I wasn't there to police But then I arrived home, worn & humbled Things seemed slightly out of place my nightstand, my wine cellar, my keys She lied and said it wasn't her I didn't invite her in my home after that

Easter Shenanigans

I have precisely one Easter tradition in my house. Hell, it's probably the only actual holiday tradition I have. The house I lived in about 14 years ago backed up against a winding creek that formed the border of my little town. The creek made a fairly straight run through my property but then made a sharp right turn as it headed east. So the patch of land between my house and my neighbor's house was a 3/4 acre triangle swatch peppered with oak trees and tiger lillies that had spread from the roadside path. During the summer, the trees were full enough to form an impervious curtain that provided total isolation between the two properties. But starting in late fall and lasting until mid-spring, I could sit on my back deck and see my neighbor sitting on his though the bare trees. It was on such a early spring Saturday evening when Robyn and I were laying in the chaise on one of the first semi-warm nights of the season. We began to watch as our neighbor, Ron (maybe in his mid-50's then), walking around his backyard in with no discernible pattern or purpose. He'd walk behind a tree, bend over, walk across to the flower garden, bend over, and so on. This went on before we figured out what he was doing - hiding little plastic Easter eggs for his grandkids to search for the next day. Now for most people, this might seem a precious & tender moment to be enjoyed and savored. After all, I lived In a town seemingly painted by either Norman Rockwell or Thomas Kincade, depending which side of town you were on. But for us, it was an opportunity for some slightly more, well, not-quite-malicious activities. "Would you like some Peeps?" I asked her as my neighbor headed inside, task completed. She playfully slugged me, but I knew her thinking was along the same lines as mine. We drank a bottle and a half of Louis Jadot Bourgogne until we saw the lights go out next store. We crept though the woods until simply planning on stealing some Peeps and Cadbury eggs neatly contained in a small plastic egg. But then we found the first egg, it's outer shelled scribes in block letters, "Audrey". The next we found was labeled Ethan. It turns out all were marked with the names of one of his 5 grandkids. We crouched behind a tree plotting our next course of action. The fair thing to do would be to steal candy equally from each child's egg. The evil thing to do would be to steal all the candy from only one child's eggs, thereby sentencing him/her to a lifetime of low self-esteem and feelings of familial inadequacy and alienation. But then Robyn asked, "How much cash do you have?". I pulled out my money clip and she extracted a fifty dollar bill. "Which name is your favorite?", she asked next. "Hmmm, let's go with Nora". She walked over to the bird feeder, picked up an egg labeled "Nora", opened it up, inserted the fifty, re-sealed it, placed it gently where it was, grabbed my hand and led me back home sans chocolate or Peeps. We woke early the next morning and drank coffee on the dock along the creek where we had a full perspective on the festivities next door. A "ready....set...GO!". Five kids, toddlers through elementary, scramble through the yard. A 5 year year old girl (presumably Nora) squeals in delight. The four others, seeing her bounty, now dash madly around the property looking for their own $50 egg..... To no avail. Confused parents. Ron in a state of complete disbelief. Kids begin to cry. Nora fiercely protecting her priceless egg. Parents begin to argue. While Robyn and I drink hazelnut coffee, blissful and contented. Nora got fifties for the next two years with the same results. The following year Ron tried to head off the holiday disaster by putting one $50 bill in each of the kids' eggs. I replaced Nora's fifty with a $100 bill. The kids stopped getting eggs when they hit about 14 years old, but the older kids would be replaced with younger ones, one of which would always be selected at random for added cash from me. I think Ron began to suspect I was involved, but abandoned that theory when it continued after I moved away. So early in the morning every Easter, I sneak into Ron's yard for another round of holiday shenanigans.

Instead

She dreamed of backpacking Hemingway's path Pamplona, Key West, Cojimar, School Creek Reading & writing every mile along the way She took 8 community college courses Instead She envisioned skin & sweat & passion Two bodies intertwined and afire Nothing existing beyond themselves She accepted an accountant's proposal Instead She wanted to save a piece of the world One sick and deprived soul at a time Nothing so pure as a woman with a cause She took a job selling condos instead She still always kept two books in her purse On Writing Well and Slaughterhouse Five Trying to finish a rough outline of her novel But she got pregnant Instead Refocused and her life reprioritized Intent on raising a gentleman & scholar Museums, culture, sport and charm She started drinking at noon Instead She met a man who lived her unlived life Bitter, jaded, diseased, and unloved Who longed for the things she had But she envied him Instead.