Bounded By Concrete

The burning glow of the sun slowly dies with hopeful eyes out my
bedroom window. Dimness invades the night, all except the brilliant
white light reaching from my neighbors porch. Like some sort of
compass, pointing toward the simple South, inticing and inviting me for
a jug and a warm slice of apple pie.

A small sedan rolls past, a couple deep inside, with deep and bounded
lives. Vague music plays as they return from a trip to the supermarket,
arguing about cheaper prices and financial statements. Standing in the
middle of a tornadoe.

Sometimes I feel like praying for foolishness, begging for a dull
mind. But my prayer is lost in selfishness, lost and lonesome in a
loose mind. And I stare at my reflection in the window and I realize I
dont like what I see.

Every aspect of life is out that window. Every nook and cranny, every
breathe we take is out that. Every wide eyed, walking, talking,
writing, driving, flowing, gasping, loving, willing, singing thing is
out that window. But it still seems foriegn to my eyes.

And that compass to the Simple South glows brighter and I think of a
simple drab diner on the outskirts of nowhere. With semi-cute
waitresses with hot brown coffee and southern politeness. A booth of
maroon imitation leather and plastic wood table that holds loud and
worn china. Truckers at the counter with their aged hats and jackets.
Where have those garments gone? What have they seen and heard?

By now the Sun is creeping up but my compass is still burning strong.
Busy cars going to god knows where, racing like the end of the earth is
upon them. Stuffing their faces with paint and grease dripping burgers
from the nearest fast food joint. All the while under blue sky,
streaked with white, like the sea with cresting waves riding to the
shore. And now my hand is shaking, and everything is moving rapidly
through my head and I think of burials and birthdays, and deserts with
nothing that give everything to me.
I think of tears and devotions, and trails of laughter. I think of
future mistakes, that belong to my immortal file, kept and locked in a
cuboard in downstate Washington.
So I close my eyes, but the sound is just as bad.

Later on in the night, after I had visited my editor for a meeting on
my next article. Paige stopped by and we sat and smoked, talking of the
future and cold mindsets to the point where we both feel a sort of
tribulation. And silence falls, satisfied upon us. Her breathing grows
softer as she climbs into my bed with me and we fall asleep, arm in
arm. And I dream of a river, that slowly takes me along the banks of
Cuenca. I, wearing a white cowboy hat and feathers in my pocket,
smoking a hand rolled cigarette, pull up to land and immediatly begin
to sob and fall to my knees, then a shudder and a shake and I tremble
with slumber and realize Paige is slowly rocking me back and forth,
trying to wake me like a mother to a helpless child, because her
boredom has overcome her.
"Will you walk me home?" she quietly craves, and I see the moon from
that god forsaken window and pray for a night of peacefull
remorse.
"Its cold out there" I tell her, caressing her thighs under her thin
skirt, "Do you have something warmer than that?"
" No, but I'll be......"
"Here take this" I hold out a pair of heavy kahkis and she smiles
faintly.

Its a good two mile, forty five minute walk in the snow to Paige's low
set flat. Its strange walking with her, hand in hand, her warm eyes
smile at me in the glimmer of white. The trees seem to hang lower than
usual, like the arms of a beaten and broken man, losing all he has to
see. And my mind wants to weep but her face wont let me, like a
clasping entaglement of two emotions, I bear no response.

I begin to feel frigid as I walk with her past still houses, its
amazing how still the world becomes under a blanket of snow. And this
emptiness keeps coming back to my soul, like a ghost playing a
childhood game in summer's dusk. She is so sweet, too sweet. Her
peacefull ways are bound to be overcome by dissapointment. Her mind
will realize its pure mistake too late. And she will be lost in this
lost little world, like a fish in a fishbowl.

I walk her to her door and say my goodbye. Somehow the sun has crept
up without my eyes and I suddenly feel weary and my knees grow weak and
I stumble to the curb holding my head in my hands. And I feel the suns
wretched rays beating on the back of my neck as I vomit into the sewer.
I sit back against a tree and feel the cool breeze of the shade as I
rub my face with snow, and try to catch a glimpse of myself in a
puddle, but its too muddy.

I see my window from the alley and picture my eyes inside, watching,
sick and mortally forsaken, watching these nightcrawlers that always
seem to have something to do, something to say, and never awaken in the
glow of the first rays of the new rising sun.

My telephone rings, screaming at me to converse with some person I
cant see. And I take my time walking to the phone, slowly dragging my
feet across the floor, like its my last walk. And perhaps it
is......perhaps its Grim Reaper just calling me to tell me he'll be
late, and that I can start without him.

When I get to the shrieking phone I think twice before answering it,
but my boredom is the same at dusk.

"Hello?" I answer in the groggiest voice I could muster,
"Hey man, its Eric, how ya been?"
"I been allright, when did you get back from Brazil?"
"About an hour ago"
"Yea? how was it?"
"Insane, absolutly insane. But listen, I'm having a shindig at my place
tonight, you know, a welcome back party. And people keep telling me
you've dropped off the face of the earth."
"Yea, well, I been pondering"
"Pondering eh? Well maybe its time for a break"
"Yea a break compiled of mindless drinking and empty small talk with
idiots who crawl around life on their hands and knees begging for
something free......quite a break."
"Exactly"

I arrive at Erics late into the night. His one story house in
shambles, windows wide open and broken, shutters hanging in discreet
fashion. People were pouring out of the doorways and upper windows to
the roof. It looked like small minded birds shooting the shit on a
telephone wire.

I find my way inside the basement and come upon a room overflowing
with people. Like a maddened protest gone wrong. Music was blaring,
beer was pouring, people were laughing and smiling. I mutter something
underneath my breath and beging to make my rounds. Saying hello to
everyone, answering their idiotic questions, laughing at their idiotic
jokes, grabbing an idiotic beer, and finally grabbing a seat in the
corner by the card table, where Farns, Mickey and a couple others are
playing poker.

"Fuck this, I fold." Mickey says in disgust, " I'm gonna go take a
piss, watch my seat" I nod and begin to scale the room, looking at all
the people. Different colored lights fluttering everywhere, climbing up
walls and over the mass of people, like an inspired poet on a
binge.

From my seat of salvation I spot Jane Bear across the room, we make
eye contact and she begins to slowly make her way to my corner. I look
for a way out. Not ready for the kind of 'conversation' she probably
has in mind. But no escape is possible.
"Hey there stranger" she smiles, "where ya been?"
"In a hole in Tibet" I answer lazily.
"Your such an asshole, you know that?"
"Of course I do" I smirk and she laughs and sits on my lap and glares
at my hands, "what are you working on these days? Something mind
bending?.....cause you know I'm your biggest fan"
"Yes, yes thank you. As sad as that may sound...I'm thankful for your
support." She puts her arm around me and stabs her eyes into mine. She
runs her finger over my hands and arms, up to my lips and whispers into
my ear, "Love me. Love me in colorado, with blue jeans strung over a
chair and white laced curtains hung by an ancient widow on her
anniversary." I just smile and sip my beer.

I hurry through the night in a rapid tempo of words and slurred
insight. Beer after beer, thought after thought. I willingly follow her
up the stairs and into a bedroom. My smile fades, but my feet resume.
She looks like a woman of lost preserve, her eyes seem to darken with
every second and her mouth moves slowly. I look at the walls and feel
tears. I touch them and want to die, they remind me of guilt and
ignorance. They remind me of young innocence and murdered age. We begin
to kiss and my mouth immediatly dries up and chokes. She pays no mind
and continues, moving deeper with each refusal. I think of greyness and
a needed solitude. I think of my window. I remember her eyes and how
they kill you. Her eyes can kill you, cut you deep and right.

Now we're naked and moving. And I still feel tears and a faded smile.
Her moans fill my ears with blood and I keep my eyes shut. She keeps
moaning. Everything in my life begins too fill me, more rapid thoughts
and I cant breathe. Lost like a twig in the ocean, I begin to choke
again. "I'm drowning!!!!!!!" I scream and everythinig stops. "What?"
she asks with confusion, "What did you say?". I keep my eyes shut and
hurriedly arise from the bed. "I....I need...I need to go" I stammer as
I crawl on my knees looking for my pants and searching for the door. It
takes me awhile to see the door and I crawl outside to the hallway,
feeling the beige shag carpet and how warm and inviting it feels. And I
think of my past in relatives houses with perfect pictures on the walls
and the smell of a bought purity. I think of cul-de-sacs and quiet
houses. And eyes, dead and grey.

I emerge from the upstairs looking as if I had been mangled by a
jungle creature. My shirt ragged and wrinkled, my pants, half open and
off kilter. My hair matted and sweaty, I was breathing hard and my eyes
darted from wall to wall. Many didnt notice as I calmly walked past
them, calmly grabbed my jacket, and calmly shut the door.

Outside the air was pure and plenty. I immediatly felt reborn and half
bounced, half walked home. The trees hung low as I whistled through the
quiet streets, hearing my echo and looking for someone familiar. I have
grown to hate these streets. These streets of cold pavement and immoral
judgment. I have seen too many poeple walk along the same streets to
find anything worth looking for. I rarely look down anymore.