Friday, April 23, 2010

languor















I’ve been in a languor lately,

a dreamy, slightly s u r r e a l
version of my life.

I find myself listening to people
or worse, talking to them

and all the sudden it hits me.

I’m the one doing the listening.
I’m the one doing the talking.

It’s like I was just watching myself from above
for minutes

and then

I’m sucked back into their
perception.

It’s like perpetual
d
é
j
à

v
u.

I watch myself do something
and then jump into my body
just after.

Away from people it is worse.

Hours slip by before I realize
I am me.

I snap and check myself,
remaining cool until the next

distraction.

Apostle Performance Reviews


















The office was small for a man of his stature. Its most distinctive feature was a Dogwood executive desk sitting in the middle of the room. It was a mottled dark brown and black that had only darkened with age. Behind the old desk sat a new Herman Miller Aeron Chair with adjustable vertical and horizontal support.

The two chairs in front of the desk were a dull orange that matched nothing else in the room. The only other items in the office were two small palm trees, sun fed through the glass wall on the east side of the office.

The door opened and a tall man wearing a bright white robe and sandals entered the room and sat behind the Dogwood desk. He leaned back in the Aeron chair and turned toward the long window to his right. Running his fingers through his dark brown beard, he stared into the sky that wrapped around the 7th floor business suite.

Outside the office lay a fairly large reception area with a number of benches and a glass reception desk. Behind the desk sat a middle aged woman with long dark hair. Hearing a knock at the door, she left her desk and punched a code into the wall mounted security interface. The door opened and a dark skinned lanky man with a black curly beard entered.

“Good morning, Mary,” the man said.

“Hello Simon,” Mary answered. “Jesus is here, but I have a few questions before sending you in.” She motioned toward the bench closest to her desk and returned to her seat.

“Now I see here that you’re from Galilee?” Mary asked.

“Oh, no,” Simon answered. “Never even been there.”

“That’s funny,” Mary said. “I thought that’s where you met the boss.”

“Nope didn’t know him at all back then,” Simon said.

“You must have met him somewhere before joining the company,” Mary said, putting her stylus down.

“Nope, never met him, never knew him until now,” Simon said.

“Well, that’s strange,” Mary said. “I could have sworn I saw you with him.”

Her interview was interrupted by a voice from her intercom. “Mary? Is Simon Peter here yet?”

“Yes sir, but…” Mary stared to say.

“Ok, give me five minutes and then buzz him in.”

“Yes sir,” Mary answered.

Jesus opened his file drawer and took out 12 papyrus scrolls. He thumbed through the scrolls, found the one he was looking for, and returned the rest to the drawer. Hitting the talk button again, he said, “Ok Mary, send him in.”

The door opened and Simon entered. Jesus nodded toward the chairs in front of the desk and said, “Have a seat Simon.”

“Hi Jesus, good to see you,” Simon said, taking the orange seat on the left. When Jesus said nothing, he turned and gazed out the window. “Great view. I bet you can see you dad from here.”

Jesus smiled and unrolled the papyrus scroll before him. “Funny you should mention my dad. You know that this whole performance review thing is his idea, right? And, well. Since he owns the company, I guess we better get to it.”

“Absolutely,” Simon said, turning back toward Jesus.

“I know you left a pretty good job to work for us,” Jesus said. “That fishing business has been in your family for years and I know you were set to take it over when your father passed.”

“Yeah,” Simon said. “But there just seems like more of a future with your dad.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jesus said, setting the scroll down. “Dad and I have talked about this and we both feel like you’re the best candidate to lead the company when I’m gone.”

Simon struggled to hide his surprise and delight at the idea of running the company one day. “But who knows when that will happen,” he laughed.

“Well, Dad does,” Jesus smiled. “The important thing is that you keep doing the great job you are and stay in good standing with the other employees. You’re gonna be great, a regular Saint.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Simon said, rising from his seat and extending his hand. “You won’t be sorry.”

Jesus shook his hand and smiled again. “Never am.”

Simon left the room and closed the door behind him. At least that was quick, Jesus thought as he turned back to the window. “If you’re sure he’s the guy, then he’s the guy.”

Oh shit, he suddenly thought. What if I had the wrong Simon? He pulled out the rest of the scrolls and flipped through them until he found one titled Simon the Zealot. He read through it quickly. “Ok, good,” he said aloud. “Got the right one.” He looked back at the window sheepishly and reminded himself to check both James scrolls before starting their review.

He hit the intercom and asked, “Mary, who do we have next?”

“Andrew is here now, Jesus,” Mary said.

“OK, send him in,” Jesus said.

The door opened and a short bald man wearing a brown robe and sandals entered. “Hi Jesus, I saw my brother in the waiting room. He seemed pretty pumped. Hope my review goes that well.”

Jesus smiled and pulled a scroll in front of him as Andrew sat down. “Andrew, so good to see you.” They shook hands and settled back into their chairs. Jesus unrolled the papyrus and studied it carefully.

“Andrew, I’m not sure what to tell you. It says here that you’ve still been spending time fishing.” He looked up from the scroll at the man across the desk. “We hired you with the expectation that you were giving up freelance work.”

Andrew’s smile faltered. “I’m sorry Jesus, but with Simon leaving the family business it really fell on me to keep it together. I only fish nights and weekends. I never let it get in the way of proselytizing.”

“I understand Andrew,” Jesus said. “But my dad’s a different sort. With him, you’re either a fisherman or a fisher of men. What’s it gonna be?”

Andrew rubbed his temple. “It’s just not that easy for me, Jesus. Raymond is the only other man in the family and he’s constantly plagued by demons. But I understand and you don’t have to worry. I’m your man.”

“That’s good to hear, Andrew,” Jesus said. “We’ve got an opening in Scotland and I think you’re just the apostle for the job. Mary will give you the details on your way out.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Andrew said, rising from his seat. “I won’t let you down.” They shook hands and Andrew left the office.

Jesus turned back to the scrolls on his desk and picked out the two for James the Greater and James the Lesser. He hit the intercom and asked, “Mary, who do we have next? Is it James the Greater or the other one?”

“It will be James the Greater, but he’s not here yet,” Mary answered.

“Thanks Mary,” Jesus said, punching the intercom off and moving the scrolls to the side of his desk. He smiled and looked out the window. James was one of the first to join the company and he had proven himself invaluable time after time.

“Jesus?” the intercom rattled. “James is here. Shall I buzz him in?” Mary asked.

“Yes, please,” Jesus said. He moved James the Greater’s scroll in front of him and leaned back in his chair. The door opened and the apostle entered the room.

“James,” Jesus said, rising from his seat and extending a hand. “Really good to see you.”

James shook his hand and sat down in one of the dingy orange chairs in front of the beautiful desk. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more, but I just seem so busy these days.”

“I understand,” Jesus said, taking his seat. “I won’t keep you long. In fact, your performance has been stellar. You’re practically a saint around here.” Jesus smiled and tapped the scroll in front of him.

“Well, thank you, Jesus,” James said. “It was an honor to start this company with you and I’m committed to it for life.”

“What more could Dad and I ask for? I don’t have anything to add,” Jesus said. “Get back out there and do what you do.”

James smiled, pushed his seat back, and shook hands with Jesus. “I’ll try to drop by more often,” he said. It’s good to see you.” So saying, he made his way to the door and left.

Jesus turned back to the window and said, “He’s a keeper, that one.” He looked at the remaining scrolls on his desk and checked his appointment book. Next up was John, one of the better writers in the company.

As if on cue, the intercom sparked to life and Mary’s voice came across. “Jesus? John is here for his review. Shall I send him in?”

“Absolutely, send him in,” Jesus said.

The door opened and a dark skinned man with a very short beard and curly black hair entered. “Hi Jesus,” he said and took a seat. “I saw my brother James leaving and he said he had a great review. Hope mine goes as well.”

“Of course, John,” Jesus said. “You’ve written more copy for this company than anyone else. I think you’ll have a long successful run with us. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to see you writing for us into your 90s.”

John laughed and said, “I don’t know about that, but I do have some ideas for a few more scrolls.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Jesus said. “You’re definitely performing above expectations and I wouldn’t be surprised to see a promotion in your future. Now get out of here and get back to work.”

John smiled and shook Jesus’ hand enthusiastically. “I guess I’ll see you at the supper next week?”

Jesus followed him to the door. “Not only will you see me,” Jesus said. “You’ll be sitting right next to me.”

John raised his fist and pointed it toward Jesus. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” he said. “Knuckle bump?”

Jesus raised a fist and tapped John’s. “See you next Friday.”

Once his office was empty again, Jesus returned to his chair and flipped through the remaining scrolls. He unrolled the scroll for Philip and leaned back into his chair trying to put a face to the name. Ah yes, he thought. Philip. I remember Philip.

The intercom squawked again. “Jesus, Philip is here.”

“Send him in,” Jesus said, smoothing out the scroll in front of him.

The door opened and round faced man with barely a beard entered the room. “Hi Jesus,” Philip said, taking a seat.

Jesus looked Philip’s scroll over. “I don’t know how to put this Philip, but you’re just not performing at the level expected or needed.”

Philip stared at Jesus. “You’ve got to be kidding. I bust my ass every day to spread the company message and I get a shit review?”

“I wish I could say something different, but…” Jesus stopped. The entire office began to shake and his poster of the kitten holding onto a branch fell to the ground.

“Dammit, Dad,” Jesus said. “You had input on these reviews too. I don’t see how an earthquake is going to change the facts.”

The room shuddered one more time and then returned to normal. Jesus looked at Philip. “We’re not letting you go if that’s what you’re worried about. We just want to see more out of you.”

Philip looked at Jesus and said, “I’ll do my best, but I gotta say this feels a little bit like a crucifixion.”

Jesus looked back at Philip and said, “Look, just get your act together and everything will be fine.” Philip left without saying anything more or even shaking Jesus’ hand.

Christ, Jesus thought. Why can’t he be a little bit more like Bartholomew? Just then the intercom sprung to life.

“Jesus, Bartholomew is here. Are you ready for him, or would you like a break? I could send in some wine and loaves.”

“Well, wine sounds good. Go ahead and send in Bartholomew and order up some wine.”

The door opened and a tall young man entered the room. “Hi Jesus. Is everything ok?” Bartholomew asked. “I saw Philip in the waiting room and he seemed pissed. He didn’t even say hi to me and that’s my boy.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t comment on any one apostle’s review,” Jesus said. “Suffice it to say that Philip is a work in progress.”

“Of course,” Bartholomew said. “I didn’t mean to over speak my position.”

“Not at all,” Jesus said. “Have a seat.” Bartholomew made his way to the desk and sat down in front of it.

“You’re looking really good these days, Bartholomew,” Jesus said. “In fact, there’s an opening in Armenia that I would really like you to consider. It’s an underserved area for the company and I think you could really open things up for us there.”

“I’m honored, Jesus,” Bartholomew said. “I don’t have much in the way of material possessions. I could be there in a few weeks if that’s what the company wants.”

“Good to hear,” Jesus said. “That’s exactly where the company needs you. Check with Mary on your way out and she’ll make the camel arrangements.”

Bartholomew made his way to the door just as it opened and a nun entered with wine. They crossed paths at the threshold and the woman carried the bottle of wine with two glasses to Jesus’ desk. Jesus pulled open a few drawers and looked back at the nun. “Do you know where my chalice is? I can’t seem to find it.”

The girl bent her head and said, “I’m sorry Jesus. Your chalice was taken to be cleaned for the supper next week.”

“Ah, of course,” Jesus said. “This will be fine then.”

The nun placed the wine and glasses on Jesus’ desk and left the room. Jesus poured himself a glass and leaned back in his seat. “One of your best creations, Dad,” he said, staring out the window as he sipped his wine.

“Jesus?” the intercom boomed. “Thomas is here.“

“Show him in,” Jesus said, finishing the last of his wine and setting his empty glass to the side.

The door opened and a short skinny man in a yellowish robe entered. “Sorry Jesus, I’m not sure if this was the time you scheduled or not. I can’t seem to find my Outlook scroll.”

“Ah, Thomas,” Jesus said motioning to the chairs in front of his desk, “always doubting. You’re right on time. Take a seat.”

Thomas sat and began messing with his robe. “Does this robe look ok?” he asked. “I bought it in the market and it looks a little used.”

“It looks just fine, Thomas,” Jesus said. “as does your performance review. You’re doing so well, in fact, that we are looking at you for our position in India. Do you think you can handle that?”

“I don’t know, Jesus,” Thomas said. “That’s a lot of responsibility. What if they don’t like me there?”

“Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,” Jesus said. “You have got to have more confidence in yourself and what you see and feel. Just trust me for now. India is where you need to be.”

“Ok Jesus,” Thomas said. “If that’s where you want me, that’s where I’ll go.”

“Excellent Thomas, that’s what I want to hear,” said Jesus. “Stop by Mary’s desk on your way out and she’ll take care of the plans.”

Thomas left the room and Jesus poured himself another glass of wine. He got up from behind his desk and walked around the room. He picked up his ‘Hang in There’ poster and hung it back on the wall by the door. He smiled and tapped the glass. A kitten hanging on a tree branch, it always made him smile.

The intercom brought him back to the office. “Jesus, Matthew is here. Shall I send him in?”

Jesus walked back to his desk and sat down. “Yes, Mary. That’ll be fine.” He finished his wine and poured another glass for himself and one for Matthew.

The door opened and Matthew ran into the room. “What’s up Jesus?” he cried as he did a little dance all the way to Jesus’ desk. “Have you seen the latest numbers?”

Jesus stood and did a little soft shoe around his desk. “Have I seen them? I’m about to frame them on the wall next to Kitty.”

The two men high-fived each other and settled into their seats. “What can I say, Matthew? You’re the top earner in the entire company. This review will be short and sweet. Good job and keep it up.”

“Thank you Jesus,” Matthew said. “You know I’m always looking for the next place to position the company and I gotta say Ethiopia is looking really good.”

“Ethiopia, really?” Jesus asked. “You know I trust you more than any other apostle when it comes to revenue, but Ethiopia?”

“Well, I’ve been doing my research like I always do and Ethiopia is an entirely untapped market. I think I can set up a satellite office that could very well bring in more than all of Galilee.”

“Ok, Jesus said. “But before you leave, I want to hear more about this alternative revenue stream you mentioned on the hill.”

“Oh, tithing?” Matthew said. “Oh yeah, that is a no brainer. I’ll tell you about it at the supper.”

“Don’t say another word,” Jesus said, pushing a glass of wine towards Matthew. “Let’s just toast the next big idea.”

The two men chatted and drank their wine, forgetting for a moment how important company time was. When their glasses were empty, they shook hands and parted ways.

As Matthew opened the door and started to move into the reception area, Jesus spoke. “Matthew, talk to Mary about the Ethiopia thing. I’m sure she can make it happen.”

Matthew made a spear out of his right arm and poked it at Jesus a couple of times. “You know I will,” he said and left the room.

Jesus poured himself another glass of wine and looked at the bottle. Since there was little left, he topped off his glass. Licking an errant drop of wine off his glass, Jesus hit the intercom just as Mary was paging him and a loud static burst was then replaced by a soft buzz.

“Mary?” Jesus checked, hitting the send button and holding it. Setting his glass down, he headed to the door. Just as he reached for the knob, it turned and a medium height, average looking young man in a robe stepped forward.

Jesus backed up a few paces and looked at the man blankly. “I’m sorry, you’re…”

The man held out his hand. “I’m James, sir. I’ve actually been with the company for some time.”

Jesus ignored or didn’t see the hand. He looked back at the man and said, “James…”

“James, son of Alphaeus?” the man half asked.

“Not ringing any bells,” Jesus said.

“Shit,” said the man. “Ok. How about James the Less? Does that ring any bells?”

Jesus laughed and spilled a little of his wine. “James the Less, of course. I am so sorry. Guess this wine is getting to me already.”

James smiled and closed the door behind him. “Don’t sweat it. It happens all the time.” He walked over to the desk and sat down. “Got any more of that Jesus juice?”

Jesus walked back to his desk. He looked at the empty wine bottle. He looked at his full glass and smiled sheepishly. “I think this is the last, I…”

James held up a camel skin bag. “Well, I brought water.”

“Now you’re thinking,” Jesus said. He took the bag and poured the water into the wine bottle, careful not to spill one pre-transubstantiation drop. With the bottle full of water, Jesus sat down in his executive chair and turned away from James.
When he turned back, the bottle was full of red wine.

“Outstanding,” Jesus said. “I still got it.” He poured James a glass and settled back, picking up a scroll. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Jesus unrolled the papyrus scroll and smoothed it out. He looked it over for a few moments before looking up. “James, you really haven’t done much to distinguish yourself in this company. Matthew got you hired but you have to earn your keep.”

“Sir, I’ve been working on a scroll,” James said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a small roll of papyrus. “It’s in the early stages, but it answers a lot of questions for our audience.” He held the scroll toward Jesus. “Take a look.”

“Alright, give me a few minutes,” Jesus said, leaning back and unrolling the small scroll. He read silently, sipping his wine, and twisting his beard for half an hour. He looked up at James a couple of times, but it was obvious when he looked up for the last time.

Jesus rolled the scroll back up very slowly. “So, if I understand this right and I do. You are proposing that faith is the means to justify any end. Have I got that right?”

James shifted in his seat. “Well, yes sir. That’s what I’m putting forth.”

Jesus pushed the scroll across the table. “How’s this for a scroll?” he asked. “Justification is for philosophers. Faith is what gets you through the ends.”

James accepted the scroll meekly. “I’ll keep that in mind during the rewrite,” he said. He rose and walked to the door without turning back.

Jesus sighed. Taking another sip of wine, he gazed out the window. Perhaps he had been too hard on James. He just didn’t want a bunch of jackasses out there doing stupid shit in his name. That’s not what faith is about.

His reverie was broken by a knock at the door. Mary poked her head through and smiled. “The intercom system is down. Just want you to know that Simon is here.”

“Ok, send him in,” Jesus said.

Mary retreated and a large man in a brown and black robe poured out of the doorway. “Jesus, this is great! It is so good to see you. What has is it been, 40 days?

Jesus smiled and shook the giant’s hand. “Got to say, it’s good to see you again. You always bring a breath of fresh air into a room.”

The two men sat down and Jesus unrolled a scroll. “It looks like we pulled you from…what? Politics?”

“Yeah, but I could only get so pumped for Caesar,” Simon said. “I am so much more pumped for the company, its crazy.”

“Well, I don’t think this will last long.” Jesus said. “You’re performing above expectations in pretty much every category. Just keep doing the great job you are and we’ll look at a promotion after Easter.”

Simon beamed. “You know I will.” He made his way to the door and turned around. “I’ll see you at the supper, right?”

“Yes you will,” Jesus said, sitting back down and sipping his wine. The door closed and he scooted his chair back to put his legs up on the desk. He looked at his sandals. They were held together by weathered leather, sweat, and dust. He had walked miles in these sandals. He only wished he had miles left to walk.

Another knock at the door and Mary entered. Jesus dropped his legs and eased back in his chair. “Judas is here, Lord. I know you wanted him last.”

“Yes, thank you,” Jesus said. “Send him in.” As Mary left, Jesus pulled out all 12 scrolls and spread them across the top of his desk. Judas entered.

“Hi, Jesus.” Judas said. Eying the two seats in front of the Dogwood desk, Judas sat down.

“Ah, Judas. It looks like you’ve signed a letter of intent with the Romans. I know you’re a free agent, but we’ve got 25 silver pieces on the table. We’re not trying to hang you. We just think that’s a fair offer for your performance. You really think you can do better?”

“Don’t get me wrong Jesus,” Judas said. “I like it here. You got a good thing going. We just don’t see eye to eye on a few things.”

“I know where you’re going with that and let me just stop you there,” Jesus said. “The Romans may be able to pay you 30 silver pieces, but think of your fan base. You will be vilified.”

“Well, let the silver fall where it may. We’ll know soon enough.” Judas rose and moved toward the door, pausing to say,” Watch your back Jesus. Those Romans don’t like the company much, just watch your back.”

Jesus sighed a breath of relief. By his count all twelve apostle reviews had been completed. He stuffed the scrolls back in his desk and poured another glass of wine. After all, it was five ‘o clock somewhere in the world, right?

A knock at the door is followed quickly by Mary entering the room. “I’m really sorry about this Jesus. This wasn’t on the books, but your dad is really pushing this guy.” She rung her hands and looked at her Lord.

“Who is it?” Jesus asked.

“His name is Paul. He’s the intern for this quarter,” Mary said. “This is actually more of an interview than a review. Your father is really liking Paul for the thirteenth apostle.”

“The thirteenth apostle,” Jesus said, turning angrily toward the window. “13? Really?” he asked the sky. “You got Simon running the place after me and now you’re adding an apostle? When were you gonna tell me about that?”

Mary coughed. “Lord, he’s here.”

“Show him in,” Jesus said, taking a long sip of wine.

A young man, still probably in his teens entered the room and sat in front of Jesus. “I have to say, Jesus. I’ve really only seen you at the sermons. I’ve never met you in person. It’s a little overwhelming.”

“Well hopefully, I won’t blind you with my brilliance,” Jesus said. He tapped a finger against his desk. “I have to say. I have no scroll on you. Would you mind telling me about yourself?”

“Well, I was born Roman, but I got here as quick as I could,” he said, winking at Jesus. “I’ve only been here a few months, so I’m still getting a sense of the company. I know you’re about conversions. That’s worked out well for your office, but there’s more out there.”

Jesus poured him a glass of wine and leaned back in his chair. “Interesting,” he said. “It sounds like you’re talking about a new market. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Well, sir,” Paul said. “Right now we’re getting the people who have listened to all the sermons and seen the healings. What happens after the miracles stop? We are going to have a huge drop off when you retire.”

Jesus took a sip of his wine. Matthew hasn’t even talked about that, he thought. “That’s where faith picks up,” Jesus said.

Paul shook his head. “Faith picks up when people hear about it. When you’re gone there’s going to be a shit storm. I’m the guy that’s going to carry the word through the shit storm. I’m going to find converts even when you’re gone.”

“Damn Paul, that’s all you had to say,” Jesus said, springing from his seat. “I might just have to start calling you ‘13’.

Paul smiled and stood up. “It’s really good to see you,” he said. He shook hands with Jesus and left the room.

Jesus poured the last of the second bottle into his glass. He was feeling no pain at this point. He tapped the intercom send button a couple of times before remembering the system was down. Taking a quick sip of his wine, he walked to the door and opened it.

“Alright Mary,” Jesus said. “Let’s start thinking about supper.”

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Strays















I don’t feel anything
for people anymore.
I’ve tried.
Outside of the rare
trajedy,
people
almost always
deserve their fate
I can’t cry
for any of them.
But the ones who can’t
take care of themselves.
The homeless,
battered women,
childless fathers,
strays.
Those are the ones
I cry for.

The Worst Thing

















“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

I look around the campfire
at the three or four people
too tired to leave the beach.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

Again, the question.
I look through the fire at Adam
and he smiles.

“Cory, our quiet giant,
What’s the worst thing you’ve done?”

I don’t know these people,
but I know this person.
Adam is my sister’s boyfriend.
And I don’t like him.

“Adam, you’re full of shit.
I’m not gonna tell you the worst thing I’ve done,
but I’ll tell you the worst thing I’ve seen.”

I watch Adam
as he taps out his pipe.
I let my vision,
blurred from the heat,
focus on the fire.

“When I was in college
I had a roommate from Detroit.
He was a little shorter than me,
a little wider,
and a hell of a lot meaner.

Never understood how guys like that
get girls,
but they do.

His was a little blonde from Texas,
big blue eyes,
and a ton of energy.

Her visits were like all the blinds
in our gloomy room
springing open at once.

But that energy diminished
with time.
I felt less and less of it
on each visit
until she wasn’t visiting
at all.

Detroit and I got along because
we didn’t get in each other’s shit.
I was sorry to see Texas go,
but it wasn’t my business
until a Thursday night
about a week later.”

“Detroit and I were listening
to loud music
and studying
when all the sudden
our front door burst in on us.
Before I could even get out of my bunk,
a guy dressed in dark jeans
and a dark hooded sweatshirt
stepped into our room.

He calmly closed the door behind him
and managed to lock it.
Detroit and I were still
in a state of shock, I guess.
He snapped first and charged
the intruder.

I stood up to see what would happen.
The intruder pushed Detroit’s face
into his quickly rising knee
and knocked him smooth out.

With Detroit at his feet,
the intruder reached up
and pulled his mask off,
revealing curly blond hair
and bright blue eyes.
“I’m sorry man, I’m no psycho.
This is just between me and him.”

I stood up fully and looked at him.
I probably had fifty pounds on him,
but he obviously knew how
to handle himself.
I listened.

“You’re Cory right? My sister liked you.
She said you were a gentle spirit,
whatever the hell that means.”
He looked down at Detroit.
“Well, this shit here is a mean spirit.
He hurt Alice. He fucking hurt her.”

I think he started crying
at that point,
because he turned away.

“And I wasn’t there, protecting her.
I was fucking serving my country.
Well, the only think I’m serving tonight
is justice.”

He looked at me.
“You, might want to leave.
Your friend’s about to have
some really bad things happen to him.”
I looked at him
and settled back into my bunk.
“He’s not my friend.”

Call it morbid curiosity,
but I really wanted to see what Detroit
had brought on himself.
it didn’t take long.

The intruder used duct tape
to tape Detroit to his bunk,
the last strip saved for his mouth.
I watched and thought to myself,
he can’t take long. He’s exposed.

He knew that too
and he got right to work.
He pulled a long,
maybe hatpin
out of his pack
and jammed it into Detroit’s ear.
He came back to life kicking and bucking,
but the duct tape held.
The intruder got his other ear
and then returned the spike to his pack,
taking out something that looked like
a bartender’s spoon.

He straddled Detroit’s body
on the bunk
and used his left hand to steady his head.
He pushed the spoon into Detroit’s right eye
and scooped it out like ice cream.
Without hesitation,
he serviced Detroit’s left eye as well.

He climbed off Detroit,
bent to pick up his pack,
and stood in front of me.
“Are we gonna have any problems?”

I climbed out of my bunk and stood.
“What problems?
I wasn’t even here.”

He left without another word.
I eventually freed Detroit
and called 911.

Stick to your story.

My story was,
I was studying at the library
and found Detroit like he was.
My story held up just fine.

Especially because the one thing
I hadn’t seen
that the intruder had done
was to cut Detroit’s tongue out.

I’m pretty sure Detroit
Is going through life
Deaf, dumb, and blind.

I look around the fire
and see that all the stragglers
have moved onto calmer waters.

I look through the flames
at Adam
and smile.

I get up from my comfy chair
and walk around the fire
to Adam.

He is still drunk or high,
or both.

He smiles when I stand before him.
“Did you listen to my story?”
“Yeah, man. Shitty roommate.
I get it.”

“That’s what I figured.”
I grab Adam’s head
and slam it against my knee.
more than once.

When I am sure
he is unconscious,
I drag his body closer
to the fire
and settle his face
into the flames.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve done?

well Adam,
I couldn’t answer your question,
because I hadn’t done it yet.”

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Our devils















We are all living
tiny little hells
watched over by
gargantuan devils.
But the devils
are easily distracted
and I have escaped
more than once
into a peaceful place
with no people,
no animals,
no sounds,
and no fears.
I have only ever
been able to escape
for minutes,
for hours,
never for days.
But I’m practicing
and some day
I will be able to stay
for days,
for years,
and my devil
will grow old
trying to find me.

Expiration date














I wish there were
expiration dates
on relationships.
Many times
I look in the fridge
and eye a suspect
food.
Sometimes there is
an expiration date.
And although they say
its hogwash,
I often measure
my decision
to eat or not to eat
against the date
on the plastic
or aluminum
or glass.
If a relationship had
an expiration date
you would know
to enjoy all that time
that you could
before things
go sour.
And when they do
as they often do
you could point at the date
and say it’s not me.
it’s not you.
It’s just
the expiration date
for our relationship.
You can’t argue with that.
Next time,
i'll look for one
that lasts longer.