Discount rambling and other coconuts
Slow down. Stop. The bar twirls and swirls. Dancing, stomping feet, clapping hands. I am dreaming. It’s all in my mind. Too many smiling, distorted faces peel through lit neon signs. Bus station in the middle of the road. in the middle of life. Slow down. Stop.
Was it forty years ago? Maybe twenty. Can’t quite remember. I remember a dog barking. 2nd avenue at night. A tee shirt and dressed for smokes. The children hadn’t come yet. The dream remained unrealized, unmaterialized. We sat in the row, dancing, stomping with the flashing lights. Smoke screen for love but it was a dance. Broken beer bottle slash across my leg, a knife in my throat.
The vinyl skipped a beat. She asked me to pray for her and I hadn’t even met her yet. I wouldn’t for another ten years. I said I would and poured another one down. If I can’t be rich, I might as well be richer. There were no coconuts on the shore that she promised. Barren but I loved her smile. Sexy.
Then I prayed before I knew her. I said I would.I prayed she would be free. I prayed for her soul to dance. She wept for me then. I wept for her. Clouded kaleidoscope, seared the bottom range, golden. I prayed and she has started to dance. Slow. Left foot before the toe, but she is trying to match the steps. Not laid out, be free I tell her.
Her father was mercy. I tried to explain that one day. I did a terrible job of it. Slow down. Stop. Retrain feet to do the impossible. Running away into the rain, running away from imaginary pain. I can see her tears every time she smiles. Her sister is a heart beat. Her sister is mine. Freedom in the smile. Freedom in the pain. There is freedom beyond the closed circle, there is freedom within.
Time for realizations. Time for the bus to take me to the train. This wayward station in the middle of space. Wayward children. Black leather, cat eyes and anger. Don’t step on the dog end of the day gone by. Don’t step were our memories lie. We are watching the rolling screen move past. We are watching through a silver screen at what was, and what is to come.
I am watching from paralyzed eyes. I am watching, immobilized. Frequent stops to the front man, opening the door. Frequent stops to the Cross where everything lay. Step up and see the strain in his sorrow. Step up and see the pain in his eyes and be free.