maybe

Maybe someday… someday I’ll have good timing.

how are you?

He thought about her from time to time.

A wandering mind that loved to live in memories. Time was the only reminder of what did or did not happen. He desired a different life but he knew that it could never be…

Short glimpse, faint smells….texture, color… He knew the layers well and wanted to be with them one more time. Things feel different and when he began to remember these things it brought him to place and time that felt like a dream. It felt like a half remembered dream written with a faded dying pen on opaque washed out paper. “Things don’t feel real” he said…   He watched the sky fade into gray, the cold air held his breath for him to see.

tired

I am getting tired

 

Everything I love gets lost in drawers he said as he moved towards the window.

——- – —– — —- ——- – — – —– – —- – —- – — – – ———

The creaking of the wood was low but droning. It was a lulling sound that was pleasant to the ear.

tendency

            I tend to be some what of a pessimist he said . Why.. I don’t know…my disposition on the subject matter is as such: “Expect the worst, hope for the best”. I guess it comes from my religious up bringing I had as a child. Maybe its because my mother always had this feeling of apprehension all the time and so I carried this learned trait over into my adult hood. These are all assumptions of course but deep down inside I guess I just think the worst in people and life in general. Do you think this is a positive outlook on life? he said as his voice trembled at the last word. He was nervous and not sure what to do with his hands… so he griped a pencil and began to fidget with it. She didn’t reply to his question. She was still staring out the window with one hand supporting her chin and the other on her cup of coffee. She looked out the window with a deep pensive look as if she had to decide on something that was a matter of life and death. Her eyes were still and transfixed on something but that something wasn’t visible to him. He began to wonder what to say to her in order to get her full attention but he was drawing a blank.  Abruptly he said ” How about we just get out of here and enjoy the day”. Excuse me? she said. “Excuse me?”  The waitress asked with a puzzled look .”I’m sorry dear were you talking to me? Do you want more coffee?” He looked back at her with a blank stare with his mouth agape. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he could see the woman staring outside the window get up from her table pick up her book and slowly leave the coffee shop. As he watched her leave all he could see was her brown hair disappear in the distance.” Are you sure you’re alright mister?” asked the waitress.   Yeah…yeah I’m fine. I was just talking to myself that’s all. Can I get more coffee?

does it change?

 The sky is in a orange flaming haze

Like a daydream it unfurls shapes in the sky that begin to morph into surreal monsters that Dali or Goya could only imagine. Its the day sky surrendering to the tempest of the night. Soon the city will be changing into the cold dark daydream that its inhabitants forget on a daily basis.

The smell of piss, shit and vomit can be smelled on the grimy asphalt sidewalks of the downtown streets. No amount of water or cleaning products can scrub off the failure and misery that has been bestowed upon these walking paths. If these sidewalks could talk they would tell the tales of  the fugitives and refugees of society. You can still see the ghostly remnants of these figures that haunt the dark crevices of this part of town. Unable to adjust to this world since they have been cast out of society and are now the  invisible monsters of this city…..and they keep on growing.

 One might call it character or excitement to describe this city…but that’s not the correct adjective I would use.

Do we change and shape the city we live in or does it change and shape us?

midnight

The hour was approaching 11 pm and the sidewalks were busy with people. The energy could be felt in the air as people  hustled and shuffled passed by. Dawning there best attire women wore high heels that made men heads turn, while men are wearing dapper suits or hip casual attire. The common thread that everyone in the city  …trying to find a party before midnight. It was new years eve and people were hustling left and right with an urgency. This need to be with someone or with a group of people on this specific day is interesting to me. No one wants to be alone and especially on a day that is supposed to ring in a new start. Bringing in change for things left undone last year. A fresh new start on …whatever that may be. They say that the way you celebrate the end of the year is the way the rest of the new year will be for you.

aloof

          He sat next to her on the couch staring at her profile while she stared out through the window.When he tired making eye contact with her she would glance the other way.She was trying to ignore him so she turned her shoulders and head the complete opposite direction from him. He non chalantly moved closer to her but to his dismay she got off the couch and moved into the bedroom. An act of denial to his advancements of human connection.

He crept into the bedroom to find her laying on the bed. She was resting on her side trying to sleep. He slowly moved towards her…ever so slowly without making a sound. He could see her back facing him and the back of her head. Gingerly he  layed on the bed but he woke her. His weight had startled her from her sleep .She turned and glanced at him with a cold empty stare. He stared back into her brown beautiful eyes. She sighed and turned her head away from him. He asked her “whats the matter?” Did you want to go out? Are you hungry?” Nothing ….her silence spoke for itself. He then began the motion of positioning himself to spoon her then right as he reached over with his arm she abruptly jumped out of bed. Walking slowly towards the door she turned and glanced at his face…she stared for awhile and continued towards the kitchen. She just wanted to be alone and away from him. He felt hurt but he knew what to expect from her as always. She always was this pouty with him when he didn’t come home on time.

The sound of her little claws tip tapping on the tile echoed down the hallway as she went to get some water from her dish bowl.  She then barked at the sound of the neighbor slamming his door shut. He walked over to her and said “want to go for a walk?” as he shaked  her leash. Her tail began to wag with increasing speed as he came closer to her.

 All was forgiven………….for today.

killing time?

He thought he locked the door…

He called out to see if anyone was home.

Silence….. an unearthly quiet.

His footsteps were  magnified by the sound of the old creaking hard wood floor. Which only acknowledged and intensified the silence of his apartment even more.

Turning the corner to expect to find his wife he found an empty bedroom with the lingering smell of perfume.  Wandering towards the kitchen he found an abandoned meal  with a window left ajar. The melancholy of  it could be felt with an overwhelming pressure that made him leave with nausea.

He poured himself some scotch and sat in his chair. Watching the airplanes fly by through the window to the outside world he pondered to himself  “How long has it been?”

“If I knew when it all went to shit could I have changed things?” ….he questioned the empty space. Staring out into the ocean blue abyss of an abandoned sky. This only made him feel more alone and insipid.

Hey Dad what are you doing? a young man in his late twenties asked as he walked towards him. The old man looked at him with a confused and startled glare.  The young man gave him his prescription and a glass of water and said “now drink this okay?” The old man did and asked him “where are we going?”

at the bottom of the hill

The shuffling of the homeless trying to find refugee from the cold night was the only thing she could hear at this time of night . The clamor of them making there way towards a corner of this building and that. Shoving and pushing there shopping carts filled with all their cherished possessions. Constructing there make-shift beds out of cardboard and old used dirty cloths.

She never got out of work this late but then again her boss was an asshole so she wasn’t surprised to be asked to stay late. She worked in a part of the city that wasn’t known for its nice houses and warm friendly inhabitants. One of her coworkers joked about it one time when she left very late in the evening  by saying” well, I sure hope I don’t get raped“. Her coworkers uncomfortably laughed by what she meant behind the sarcastic remark. The kind of joke one makes to defuse the shitty reality of living in a world where a gender has to see this as a constant threat. The laughs grew into an awkward chuckle then a dead silence. They dismissed the awkwardness with feverish typing and incessant phone call banter.

The hour was approaching midnight as she waited at the bus stop. Her legs were getting colder with each gust of wind that pummeled her as she stood there. She decided to walk as far as the next bus stop so as to get away from the uncomfortable stares she was receiving.

Once at the top of the hill she could see the street plummeting down to the valley and the suburbs of her town which gave her solace. She abruptly heard a woman scream and she saw at the bottom of the hill a woman being thrown to the ground by a large figure. It lingered there hoovering over with primal instincts.

She yelled at the the figure “Hey leave her alone!”

She took off her heals and ran down to the bottom of the hill only to find an antique mannequin wearing tattered clothing and a dingy wig laying on the ground. She took one step back and suddenly felt the warm heavy breath of someone. She could feel the ominous heat on the back of her neck.

The next day her coworkers found her coming to work with a bruise on her cheek, a few scratches on her hands and legs.  Her boss bewildered and a tad worried asked “what happened to you”?  She simply replied “You should see the other guy” winked and walked towards her cubicle to begin her day.

a prose for you

Your an animal trapped in your hand made ceramic cage.

Just waiting to let the sunlight in.

You’re the words behind the feelings

That cant be heard or seen.

You’re the pins and needles

Waiting to be felt

You’re  the simple patterns

Trying to make them come to life.

You will find the reason

To make things feasible on your own.

I know I can let them go