Friday…December 4th…Far to many Shades of white…and I never dated Olivia Newton John….I don’t care what Don says…..

“Elvis is leaving the building” 2009

“If you have integrity, nothing else matters; if you don’t have integrity, nothing else matters.” – Alan Simpson

it was a stain…bright purple on the half of the longest finger on his 50 year old hand…”but I didn’t do it”….was all he could say…match the hole in the pie to the length of the finger…see what you see….could be diamonds…that are still coal…or maybe ripe syrupy fruit…dripping from the side of the plate….while the corners of your mouth….hold the crumbs….and still bovine eyed…blinking big lashing for effect…maybe kicking the dirt at your feet…and soon like a wasp sting it will…all be over…a little ice…maybe a soothing word from someone who you think cares…and it will be all over…”Mamma’s little baby….going to rock you home”…at least that’s what…your hoping for…but the reality is a shoe full of nails…instead…ones you’ve gotten used to walking in…you can deny the limp…the blood soaked socks…shifting from left to right to left….but the words pour from your mouth like an endless faucet of poisoned water…all the carcasses…still there…cluttered around the dip pond…on the hot July day…it was 3 or maybe 4 in the afternoon…the sky filled with the circlers….floating in a long spiral….just in time…they’d been here before…heard all the pitch…with the charts..the graphs….the “We’re gonna’s”…..but it was all a wet dream….without….the wet….

it had nothing to do with the layers…how many or how they were put together…did they use some special glue….something out of a tube….or was it mixed like cake…with frosting…sort of spread like jelly from the bottom…of the jar…”Every girls crazy bout a sharped dressed man” ….the ad read….maybe it was me…was I the one…the problem child from way back…so what was different today….wrapped up tight in the cheesy Christmas wrapping paper…pretending to be…what I wasn’t…not any more….not for a long time….but did that make it any different….maybe it was the words…I was attached to….and who was doing what…when in reality it was a really an uncomfortable chair….with no fabric….a bed with fine sand spread on the sheets…I was tired of the cries…all of the black letters…the unforgiven debts….those webby sort of feelings…wanting something more than just a drop of blood….when the door I locked wasn’t locked tight enough…it was no longer a room full of broken glass….they were pebbles…now…pumice….something I could handle….without your gloves….and I opened the door very early this morning…..and let you go…you flew a little one direction….your white motor sounds…..faded….I knew I was done…not an edible piece on my bones….they’d be white…soon….like a shell…..or maybe…salt…..

those were the metal heater days…the ones where the lights flash for no reason…but it still seems to make some sense…and the world turns a little differently on it’s axis….”Don’t ask me why….I just deliver the papers…I don’t write them”….that was a statement…not a question or a fact…I mean your truth is only true if you….believe it….so stiring someone else’s bowl could get you rabies….or maybe something that looks like but tastes like…everything you might have thought it was or wasn’t….that’s where it gets tricky….that delivery method….the one that comes at a few thousand feet per second…from a long ways away….they can see you…but you’re a speck….with a black hat….if you’re a bad guy…white hat if you’re the other….and we played those carnival games…blow them up with water….they moved…in jerky motions across the nicked race track….and sure she won…but what…some pink dog with an “I love you” collar around it’s neck….you can squeeze it’s stomach for a few days…it says “I love you” in some transistor voice….until the battery dies….and the rust seeps into the fabric….but you knew that…it was grapes on the vine first…then the picture showed them stomping them and now…look…..”What a beautiful world it could be”…Don said……he really meant it….not just some Hallmark idea that made mom cry on her birthday…and see what a great kid you really are…..”What a glorious time to be free”…Don said that too….it is a glorious time to be free…..I think I’ll unfold it all…..today….press it flat…make it smooth….look at it like it’s really small….like the lima beans…the ones I grew on my window sill…that spring….

she looked like Olivia Newton John…except a little different…I liked that she had a pimple on her left cheek…she didn’t know I existed….I was the sand kicker….could not muster the courage to speak….I tried once….but I sounded foreign….or mentally ill…she laughed…along with her friends….I liked her turquoise eye makeup…sexy but still 1970s…it was 1972…..I wore …pants that were far to short…and short sleeved shirts….with checkers….used Dippity Do….to style my Mexico haircut…and wore shoes that belonged to my father….and I wondered why…..it was easier…then to spend time with them….they were nothing but women…that wanted money…for their time…and sometimes they’d act like they were interested….but they never were…..just like Olivia Newton John…but at least they saw me…then…called me Richard even though that wasn’t my name….I wanted my name to be Roman….a name like that could have changed my life…I thought….maybe from my saltine version life to something with more crowd to it….something that sounded like I was not from here….but we walked over the concrete bridge many nights…begging for something different in the morning….but it was always the same…hotdogs and beans….until those Sundays…when I could drive the jeep…..like a madman…with only the wind there in those hot sand canyons…I could sing as loud as the echo could sound….and it all worked out to be a weird sort of symphony….I was a conductor….a musician….a singer…I was every bit of everything I saw there in front of me…..and the night time sounds caressed me….on those summer nights…when the singing dogs…would put me to rest….and I never though of her and her turquoise eye lids…..never….

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