My Last Trip to New York

Three months in and still no waves. It’s hard for me to write to you these days. Rusty anchors drag down my sails and dedication through the cold sea. Along the floor the bottom of the house in my basement I have a gun stashed away behind my tools. The other night I thought I might have to use it. The wind was calm for the first time all day and the silence was too much for me without you there. So, I unlocked the liquor cabinet and got some matches that I had in there. I walked to the stairs and lit my lamp. The oil burned slowly which gave me time to put my jacket on. The messy memory of the past weekend like a shadow on the wall reflected the light from the lantern against the table. A magazine I flipped through earlier was on the thick glass and I remembered it reminded me of my last trip to New York…

Just In Time For The Music

A friend of mine owns a club. He hates it but he makes money. I stopped by to see him the other night when I was on my way home from my local bar, but he wasn’t there. I was filthy from a day’s labor anyway, I could see why they wouldn’t want to admit me, but I came ’round back. The cook said my friend took the delivery truck and sped off, giving hell to whoever he was on his phone with. This troubled me, mostly because he had been having a tough time lately. The last time I saw him his pupils were like full moons, black and bottomless, but he was happy. It was at the party over by the museum area. It was the night I walked from there to the marina. Anyway, I saw him and we had a brief discussion about Australian rock n roll bands of the last 30 years and he lit a cigarette and wandered off. It amazed me this guy could run a club with a great restaurant and everything. I know he’s highly intelligent and he can get it together when he needs to; an impressive combination in action, but as a lifestyle I think it’s taken it’s toll. I mean, he could of popped his lid tonight, especially if what set him off was something that had to do with his girl. She’s this incredibly attractive Hawaiian girl. She works for a wedding photographer, gonna be a realtor soon. I ordered a Black & Tan. I leaned on the bar and thought about having the baked ziti again. It’s early, I wonder if I’ll see her tonight. Maybe I should call her and see if she wants to meet me. She’ll come with some friends I’m sure and be just in time for the music…

About The Future

I’m too hungry to write I’m satisfied the clouds are overhead today. She sleeps a few blocks down, away from the beach under an electric blanket. It’s that cold out here I’m still hot from earlier I wonder if she’s lying awake. Her second floor apartment was nice. The cat has claws however buttery soft brown fur. I can’t tell you why but I feel like I finally got to her. Maybe that’s what she wants me to think, make me let my guard down. Eight o’clock in the morning and I want a beer. And a smoke. And another round with her. I hope my cousin got home OK, we left kind of quickly. The noise from the speakers in the dark room made me not want to cross the dance-floor to say my goodbyes. I’m coming back to see her tonight. We’re going to watch a movie about the government or something. God, she lives far from the train. I finally make it to the corner. The highway is empty and it starts to drizzle. I put my black hood on and walk toward the station. I love this sweatshirt. The wind whips around the parking meters and the tall grass in the sand. Music soothes my sore muscles and works my brain into focus. I button up my coat. She told me that she didn’t like to fly but she wanted to go to Fiji so she was saving up to buy a boat. I take off my headphones. The silence of the morning sounds like feedback thick and very loud. The waves rush and crash in the distance. A streetsign bangs against the newspaper machine it’s chained to. I take a seat on the curb, watching a pigeon drink happily from a puddle, thinking about the future…