The Green Sea

Holding out on me about whether or not she will go with me to the beach is killing me. It is bright beautiful and sunny outside but not too hot. Cool enough, I think, for this girl from the suburbs to come out look at the ocean. Time to face the world already, it’s 3:30. She protested, lying on the sofa calling me over. We talk for a while and she goes back to reading a magazine. The television’s on, and some dope is preaching about space, and suddenly I remember suddenly that my focus has badly slipped off the mark. I had thought about this before, when I was drunk at Jeannie’s party and promised myself I would remember it, but I forgot to remember. What had driven me so off course? I wanted to travel some more but I’ve been in this town for months now. The sun sets each day; my heart content with work and ready for reward. I have eyes green as the sea to sail through each night, and then I wake up the next morning and sail on that boat out deep into the green sea…

Before I Had It So Good…

I’m in a lazy state of mind but the strong coffee from the convenience store around the corner is keeping me wired and interested in the article I’m reading. It’s about a new sykscraper that going up downtown. It’s supposed to be completed in a few years. By then I’ll be gone from here, and I as I wandered back into the comfort of that nice memory a bike messenger hit me, completely blindsided me from the right. As I got up and dusted myself off I outstretched my hand to what appeared to be a beautiful girl, one which had flown right into me spilling my strong coffee all over the sidewalk. After some customary concerns and pleasantries were exchanged she invited me out for some drinks later that night, at a bar across the river. I was twenty minuted early, but I wanted to get a couple of seats at a small table so I could hear what she was saying to me. Simply put, my hearing ain’t so good, but I am a good listener, if I can hear what’s being said to me. Anyway, three beers later in walks my girl, in the hottest outfit I’ve seen since I left Cali. She had a tight white t-shirt on with a picture of the band ‘The Runaways’ on it, I don’t remember anything else, except it’s a week later and she’s moved in with me. Nighttime is quiet now. We keep the widows open to feel the cool breeze and listen to the street four stories below. We talk a lot, but sometimes not at all. Behind everything though, each calm day and long quiet night a ghost hangs silently over me like a canopy in the desert. Somehow I lost the ability to enjoy good fortune. So quickly so soon after the last situation, which I have thoughts about still, thoughts that make my heart race. I can handle new love, I must, because to lose this girl so special and now, I can’t do that. I’ll bear these memories and this time for now. Keep my focus on what’s before me. Not on what came before I had it so good…   

I Could Have Her All To Myself

What is it with the way people look at you when you’re walking down the street. I saw this older woman look at me in the most curious fashion in the half-second that she saw me when we passed each other on Vine the other evening. She had on a red scarf and a white jacket with gold buttons. Her hair was black and in a ponytail; mine was long and greasy. I was hungry and thirsty. Not tired just agitated to some degree. Four birds huddled around a puddle with a newspaper in it. Swelled up with water, ink runny and unreadable. Some guy at the corner is playing a plastic can for some bread. He’s good. I sit on a stoop and listen for a bit. I suddenly feel completely alone. I take out my phone and call a friend. She reads her books for school in in a park by my apartment. I saw her there one day and we chatted briefly about the book she cradled in her arms and lap. It was an art book. And the page it was opened to was filled pointillist paintings. So many colors, and I began to think of the sea, late afternoon in the winter, clear and deep and massive and silent. We spoke for about twenty minutes. She told me how she felt about the war, and how it had impacted her life. I told her I was sorry and gently kissed her on the wrist and hand. She smiled. It turned out to be a glorious day. First seeing the clouds sweep past the hills back East, toward the shore. The waves were low but a current stong and vast kept us moving farther and faster. Out for the night to find a place that was quiet where I could have her all to myself…

Far From The Coast

So it’s a Wednesday evening and I’m walking back from the docks thinking of the places I’d like to take her. I’ve been restless all day. The first thought I had this morning, even before the sun had risen, was of us walking through the lantern lit streets, talking about a film we watched the other night. This calm dream was interrupted by my phone ringing. I have this new phone which has a very clear ring. It was my friend, he had been up all night and was afraid he would not be able to sleep for some time. I asked him why and he laughed, saying he was with his ex-girlfriend. He need not say more, because I knew his ex did a lot of coke, and stayed up for days at a time. He had been hanging out with her lately. I tried to changen the subject. He continued talking nonetheless and told me some of the things she had said throughout the night and early morning. But that’s not what I want to talk about. I want to talk to my girl. It’s been a brutal day, and I need to see her. The water seems so much colder now when I leave our apartment with her still there, sleeping. Long seconds alone and quick hours with her has been my life for not long enough. Tonight I will speak to her quietly. While we sip our drinks out on the balcony. I will tell her the truth. When she met me I was drunk and sad, starring out into the darkness of the park. I had become shallow, so empty. I read her some lines I had scribbled on a train schedule. She loved it. I followed her home and I have never left that room, even when I am out, far from the coast… 

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…

How Alive I Feel

The relevancy of my attention becomes less and less as the evening progresses. Why she agreed to this night is beyond me, unless I am misreading nerves and shyness as perceived ambivalence. You know of whom I speak. She has long brown hair and a fresh tattoo of a mermaid along her left side. The lights in this nightspot are too dim. I cannot see her well enough. Although, I feel she is looking right through me. Why else would someone ask her out for drinks? She must know my intentions, my dull dreams and aspirations. Youthful cravings not satiated by drugs or drinks, only time. Her dark skin is so so smooth. Each time she blinks the smoke out of her pale green eyes, her eyelashes, long and curved, bat me farther away. I am on an island in the tropics. The trees are velvet and the sun is blown out. Black as night, my heart pumps blood. I do not trust the locals. The bar is crowded, but no one else is here. We speak quietly. The music is slow and mellow. I ask her if she’s enjoying herself. She leans over me and says yes, reaching across my body for her pack of smokes. I place my drink on the bar, and gently take the cigarette from her hand. I inhale, and tell her how alive I feel…  

She Is Beside Me

As difficult as it has been to forget about her I still try. Late at night I lie back and close my eyes to the world and enter her apartment. The heat has been turned up and continues to rise giving life to the plants and flowers on her windowsill. I peer out into the gray city and marvel at what a bass player’s salary can provide. I feel a hand on my hand squeezing gently reminding me I left the hot water on. The program on the television is explaining why tribes in an unknown region are at war in the thick jungle. Beside dark oak doors that lead to her bedroom rests her red boots and a pack of cigarettes. I open the pack and finger one long 100 to give to her and look for a book of matches. A sharp pain in my side reminds me I have not slept in days, and that hazy glow I see is not real. She is speaking in a language I do not understand but I know what she is saying. She reaches toward the coffee table for a tissue. A new record is on I take her face in my hands and kiss her lips and her tounge. Her apartment faces East and as we crawl back into bed we can feel the sun’s warmth on our eyelids. It sings us a lullaby we fall asleep to. I lie in bed wide awake and dream that she is beside me…

A Cool Pool of Water

Ok it’s cooler now and I can think again and I can write to you again…That was a bit rough I don’t remember much except that we bought that painting in the square. The one with the yellow paint was nicer in the sunlight but the one I purchased will be worth much more. Knowing her she will probably break it or ruin it or sell it and leave me. Does it bore you when I speak like this? Oh, don’t be so easily rattled. She distracts my detatched mind. Dump trucks and cranes can build buildings I will sleep in. The air feels cleaner up here, as if whoever upstairs just returned home from a long trip and flipped on the air conditioner. I think I’ll take my shirt off. No, that’s not a tattoo just really bad sunburn. I know, I had a girl’s leg draped over me. From the nape of her creamy neck to the underside of my foot we were slowly cooked. Pass the aloe. I was once at a party on the West coast and I sat on a inflatable chair right next to a giant aloe plant. I saw her there and she told me she had been doing a lot of cocaine and was really enjoying it. She asked if I had any, I remember it like it was yesterday and it was about six years ago. I pictured us having a conversation in the bathroom. I leaned back in the chair, next to the aloe plant. I closed my eyes and the stars told me a story that made me want to jump off of a cliff into a cool pool of water…