On The Road

On the Road. You can walk, drive or even lay on the road. Simply make certain it isn't alive to... Well I'll let you decide which road you want to go down and whether it's alive.  I'm going to be on the road in the next day or so to see something interesting, something fascinating and go somewhere I've never been before. All three. I'm excited. And I'm feeling dead tired but I'm hoping the adrenaline will kick in before I have to head out. Enjoy the story. I'll share another dream home soon. Kisses, m. 

Yellow Line - Tyler Shields c/o tylershields.com

Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. The black split in two by the divided bright line. Closer and closer. Frantically its pushing forward. Speeding engine roaring across the lines. Passing cars. Dodging bullets. Heartbeat pounds within a heavy chest. Radio sounds cut out as the approach draws nearer. Wires pass out of range in the night and there’s no more stops along this stretch. Last chance to turn back and every time its full throttle. 

The Long Stretch

(October 20, 2010)

As long as I can remember there have been men that crossed my way.

It’s been sometime since someone came along. Traveled through the dark night, bright day. Down this way. Down this stretch. The long stretch. Some travel beneath the stars in the darkness that blankets my roughened exterior with a coolness that never comes in the daylight warmth. The long stretch doesn’t beckon to them like it used to. Yet the call remains.

Any that cross close enough will hear it. The sound of my song. The song that leaves them wanting to find it. The one thing that can’t put a finger on, but once they’ve heard it can’t live without. And they’ll follow it. Follow it off into the end until it’s found. And they’re never lost for long once they’ve found it. Along this never-ending path that welcomes them.

Some that pass through know where they’re going but will never get there. Others don’t have a clue what they wanted when they stumbled down this stretch into nothing. That’s when it calls the strongest. The urge to take a turn off the map in the foreign direction you don’t know. It calls intensely. And that’s when they are mine. Some might think they’re run a little off course from the main road. They keep telling themselves that the road only looks like it keeps changing. Well if anyone ever crosses feeling while traveling down an unfamiliar stretch they might want to remember this one thing: You aren’t lost. The road isn’t where you think it is anymore. Once you’ve stepped one foot into these boundaries you no longer have a direction.

All directions ultimately converge upon one. And I am boundless. Long, dark and unending. The mass of my dark body is filled with faded pieces of discoloration from the unyielding sun. Parts of me are broken, yet remain strong and useful. Chunks lifted, pulled through the blackened gravel and unpaved holes compose my surface. Unreasoned patterns, breaks that show distinct mistreatment and neglect. But make no mistake those small pieces are merely a sum of my parts. The whole is intact.

Been here a long time. Longer than before they paved over me. Long before they had feet. Long before even they were here. The speeding demons. Four wheels charging across the plains harnessed by a fifth that governs the direction of the others. Behind the wheel and they think they’re still in control.

Man’s biggest problem is how he perceives the world around him. He likes to see things the way he thinks they are. How he thinks he controls them. Not how they really are. Sometimes I wonder if I were to bleed that I might feel the same way.

Listening to the sound of their flesh grating against my hardened surface as the gravel slices into soft tissues and tears towards the bones I wonder what it would feel like to bleed. Would it grant the key to understanding the passage of life and time like they do? Feeling the burning of skin as it pulls fresh from the interior layers beneath and the flow of life escapes. What understanding would the sensation of pain bring me? Bleeding out through remaining fleshy portions as a result of mortality. If this threshold of feeling is what lends their minds to believe in boundaries, I truly wonder if understanding will be enough. And if understanding what it means to be of the flesh would tame the insatiable urge to annihilate anything that crosses my stretch.

Alive through the moments of death that pass within my unending reach. Moments that will happen again and again. The shadows of the lost that edge closer and closer toward their destiny. All the while cracks that splinter across my wounded surface crave another taste. Waiting. For another taste of blood. Waiting. To be fulfilled by it. Calling out to the blood that comes. Waiting. For it to spill. Down. Down. Down. Deep into the fractures that lie of weakness in my hardened armor. Dripping. Crawling. Deep beneath the surface and drying. And the rain comes to wipe clean all traces of what’s come and gone across my boundless empire.

Blood Alley. Freeway of Flesh. Highway to Hell. Requiem Road.

In some parts of my boundless empire there’s been a name or two given to mark a few of the outstretching veins. They’ve seen their fair share of death. Life that travels on them and then spills into night without cause. It can be called many things but it don’t change what’ll happen if a desperate soul makes their way down one of these paths. And there’s nothing like a fresh soul waiting for life to show its value. Desperate for a change. Not caring where the call comes from next. With a small glimmer of hope that didn’t matter enough to expect something from.

Yellow. Yellow. Yellow. Lines divide up the center of two lane black. Chk. Chk. Check the lights in the darkness that reflects black. Lights on. Lights off. Flashing. Only black bounces back beyond that yellow line. The feelings of fear and apprehension come through loudly like a record player etching out a tune against a revving engine barreling down the stretch through the night. Behind the wheel sits desperation as the wheels keep spinning faster and faster like there’s no tomorrow and rightly so there isn’t. Brakes squeal with the sounds of panic. Even though there’s nothing coming for miles in both directions the sonic boom of impact will clap across the horizon with the intensity and magnitude of thunder. The shadow of darkness will once again coat the stretch in the silence of night. Chk. Chk. By the bright light of dawn remain the last sounds of the engine brought down to mere whisper. Somewhere beneath a twisted metal wreck sitting in front of the open horizon lies the last breath of bleeding desperation that tomorrow couldn’t wait for.

FULL

At the edge of the pool - 2011

A couple years back I wrote this... Let's keep it simple. Love is only Some Distant Memory if you want it to be. You can fall in love again and again. Have to let it happen and do what is best for you. I know what's best for moi and you know what's best for you. I'm sure people might disagree. That's their problem and they need to get over it. You can not block out a memory or rather you shouldn't. Best to simply experience it. Sometimes memories hurt, sometimes, they don't and sometimes there's an in-between. The memory is always worth the risk, the pain and pleasure of experience. If it isn't then perhaps you aren't ready for life, love and most everything else. Get ready for it. It won't wait for you to be ready. Life never does. Anyhoo, this is a story I did happen to include in my ebook Some Distant Memory. You can buy it here... Enjoy! Kisses, m.

Some Distant Memory

(July 19th, 2010)

I don’t know if we could get lost in a city this size if we wanted to.

And I don’t know if I could survive without seeing you?

And every time I see your face I feel out of place.

I’m out on the street. This address isn’t familiar. It’s new. She’s running late. How do I know? He’s waiting outside. Picking her up. Talking on the phone. The new me. The replacement.

I know it’s him by his watch. I passed them in the lobby of the W three weeks ago and there it was shiny, gold, Rolex, the kind of gaudy that isn’t anything like me. It was an unusual encounter to say the least. Walking by slow with my head turned by the sound of noise. She saw me first and grabbed his hand tighter. The left, with the watch. Tighter. Smile for my benefit. Wave of her blonde hair as she leans in a little closer for a kiss. A flash of gold touches her cheek and they hold for the moment as I keep walking. He didn’t know about me and she won’t tell him. And I can’t forget it. Gold. There it stands three feet below the stoop waiting for her to leave the building.

I didn’t want to ever do this. But that day it wasn’t enough. I had to see her again. It’s been too long for me to miss her and it’s not long enough. Damn this. She’s running down the steps. She’s wearing a black dress beneath her coat. Her favorite dress, with the slit up to her mid thigh that accents the muscles in her leg when she wears the right shoes. She’s wearing the right shoes and kissing him. Apologizing and taking his arm in hers before they start walking.

After thirteen blocks we are in a familiar place again. The city seems to be alive all around. I can’t move quickly enough. Knocking into people. Shoving forward through the crowd. Trying to reach her. I just need to see her face. I can’t catch up. There’s so much alive and I’m walking through it. Towards something that is no more. The light turns red. We are separated by the traffic. I should give up. I can’t.

They enter Allegra’s. It’s a bar we used to go to. Used. To. When we had the same friends. They’re all still friends with us and each other except its different. There’s a dividing factor, an imaginary line in the room that is drawn. Makes same very different. Creates an uncomfortably large pink elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about.

They take a booth and I shuffle over to the bar and wave down a bartender. As she sits he takes her coat. That was my gift. She laughed when I gave it to her. Tonight she still has the same laugh. But it’s laughing at his jokes now. His funny faces. Now I’m getting a double shot of unfamiliar poison and a Kentucky Jack straight.

Through the passing bodies and open laughs I can see the world that I once occupied.

It’s so easy why are you leaving?

It’s just because I’ve grown afraid of you.

I wish we were at the beginning

It would be so good to be with you.

It’s been a half hour and a drink later. The rest of their party arrives and they all mingle. These aren’t my friends. I’m sipping my second Jack and watching from my stool. Her long hair is slightly tucked behind one ear. She has three hoop earrings in each ear. They get up and start talking. It’s killing me but I can’t help watch. Crunching my ice loudly, I turn to get a better view. Maybe part of me wants to be seen. Maybe expecting a reaction? Or nothing at all. She looks at me and turns back to the group. I can’t tell if there is recognition in those blue eyes. She reaches over and touches his hand. He leans in and whispers. She kisses his neck and whispers something back before tucking more hair behind her ear. She knows it’s me.

They start to leave and she turns my way once again. Between the crowded I can see them heading toward the backroom. Why leave? She knows I’m not going to talk to her. I’m afraid of what she might do. The kiss at the W hurt me more than any real wound she could have inflicted. It doesn’t have to be this way. We could be strangers in a bar making eye contact and moving back to our own worlds. It’s dark enough. He doesn’t need to know. This could have been so much better between us. Perhaps we could start over. Begin again instead of losing each other in the sea of nothing that occupies the spaces between. That beautiful hair whips around and those eyes send another ice jolt of blue through my heart before crossing the room. They’ve passed through the threshold.

I look at the man next to me and order another drink. The bartender laughs and hands me the bottle. I nod and tip him a twenty. It’s gonna cost a lot more than this before I’m done. I smile at the man next to me and raise the bottle. He nods and lifts his glass. We are going to be friends before the night is done.

See that girl…

She’s over there.

I don’t need her…

She don’t care.

I could be one in a million.

It would be so good to start again.

An hour and a half later I’m pouring the drinks and asking for more ice. The man next to me is my confidant. We’ve connected by the good handshake of Jack and stories of heartbreak. I almost forget she’s in the other room. Then there they come. Laughing and shaking. He’s spinning her around to the sounds of nothing familiar. There’s no recognizable music for my ears. I can’t get over the way her hair moves in the light. I need another drink but the bottle is empty. Nodding the bartender addresses my dilemma and pours another round.

They’re dancing and laughing. I can’t help but watch. Through my drunken rant I’ve given up. I’m telling my new friend about her. Pointing to the beautiful girl that doesn’t care about me anymore. Reminding my friend that she’s replaced me with him. Anybody with a gold watch. Proclaiming that I don’t need her anymore. These odds aren’t in my favor here. And I know it’s time to start over. But there’s still part of me that misses the beginning. It would be nice to be strangers again. Although there are things that couldn’t be understood without the past, it could be so good.

It’s so easy why are you leaving?

It’s just because I’ve grown afraid of you.

I wish we were at the beginning.

It would be so good to be with you.

They are putting on coats. Looking at the bar. Quickly shuffling their feet through the crowd. Moving back she leans into him. Turning toward me she pauses and faces him. Her hands flip down his shirt collar with care and I ignore another kiss. They are leaving. The other couple has already approached the bar and paid the tab. He spins her around one more time. I swallow the rest of my Jack in one gulp and slam down the glass. They already walked outside. I drop off Ben Franklin and pick up my coat before following.

Outside. Watching them embrace. Now he’s kissing her and trying to hail a cab. One arm wrapped around the small of her back while the other is waving. It’s a movie moment on the curb beneath the moonlight and I’m not in it. My stomach feels sick. I’m standing in the darkened shadows and trying to light a cigarette. That entire bottle of Jack wasn’t the best idea. I’m stumbling. Loudly coughing behind them while they wait for a cab. Turning. Now she sees me. The lines of her face change. She REALLY sees me. I’m exposed. The enemy revealed. The bad guy discovered. She pulls him closer to hurt me. Another kiss before a yellow cab hits the curb with a screech. He opens the door. She’s in and gone before I can react to the change. It’s too late. Done. But I’m chasing the cab anyway. Running and yelling. It’s getting away. I can’t see before it happens. Stumble. Street. Pavement meet face. How do you do?

I’m alone. Face down upon the blacktop in the dark. The sound of clacking grows louder as it approaches. I can only see two black shoes attached to a pair of stocking covered legs. Then turning and kneeling these legs rest before my tired face. A small soft voice whispers “take my hand.” I reach up and grab the hand. It belongs to a smiling girl with a short dress and a long coat. She’s looking more sympathetic with her grin than laughing as she helps me to my feet. I can’t walk straight. She asks if I want help. I say no and start off home. She walks with me anyway. Catching my arm when I stumble and talking to me about the stars. She’s a pretty girl with a pretty smile. I don’t know why she’s talking to me or helping me. But I’m not alone. I’m happy for the company and distracting information about stars.

We walk for fifteen blocks then reach my building. She asks if I need help upstairs. I smile and say no. I tell her thank you for the company and she tells me to call her before handing back my phone. I laugh and ask how long she had it. She says I left it in the bar. I get her number. She smiles and kisses my cheek before leaving. I’m still sick, but I remember how nice it feels to start again.