Row your boat
down the
stream is
raging,
not gently at all.
And I am not
opposed
to being
saved, but
there's no one at all.
Traffic on the Mass Pike,
heat on high -
it's not that cold outside.
You're back in California,
I'm home for the night,
and you're still on my mind
all the time.
Row your boat
down the
street is
flooded
with curmudgeons,
And I am not
opposed
to giving in
to the
undertow.
And if you throw me a rope
I might grab hold,
but I might just let it go;
I'll take my chances in the rapids,
I'll forfeit my fate, again, to the flow.
I feel I am going to make a mess again,
I'm gonna make a poor example of myself,
but I don't know if this is right.
It's all too familiar,
I've been here before-
Last time didn't go well.
I don't know if I can take
any more of this.
My brain is scattered-
a pattern with no repeats,
no lines of symmetry,
nothing
to keep it organized.
I live inside my own head
and I can't find
my way home.
And if you throw me a rope
I might grab hold,
but I might just let it go;
I'll take my chances in the rapids,
I'll forfeit my fate, again, to the flow.
30 November 2008
10 November 2008
Discomfort started with Lydia in mind. The walk was cold. The darkness swept in and out of breezes that whipped wildly through her zebra printed coat. She and Gwen were stumbling in the direction of a party that would prove that wrong turns of events happened all the time. After two tequila shots, two glasses of wine, and one mixed drink of 151 rum, the discussion was aimed at the solution to the situation in Iraq.
“We need to pull out. As soon as possible.”
“But when we pull out, all hell will break loose.”
“Two feet are the only ones you can stand on, and most of the time they have to be your own.”
“I wish I had brought gloves.”
“True. But that’s a sick coat.”
“Those are fighting words.”
“This is the house.”
The girls walked up the malicious looking stairs, and entered the scene where it all began.
There he was. Eddie’s hair gave him away from across the room. Two deep breaths later, Lydia approached. “I made it.” She offered questioningly.
“I’m so glad you did.” Eddie slid over on his wooden seat. “ Have a seat. We’re playing kings. Bad coat.”
Lydia wasn’t sure if he meant that he disliked her coat, or that it was cool, so she did not respond. She slid her arms out of the zebra skin and took the seat Eddie offered. She pulled a beer out of her purse.
Someone drew a six card out of the pile.
“TO CHICKS!” Lydia shouted, raising her beer to meet the rest of the girls’ cups. She drank wholeheartedly. The other girls laughed, and drank in the same manner.
Someone else drew an Ace, commencing a waterfall, and Lydia put down a half empty beer can on the table.
She drew a 2 and looked at Eddie on her left.
“To you,” she tried out a sweet smile. He smiled back and sipped his own beer.
Eddie drew his card, then slyly slipped his arm around the back of the wooden chair they shared. “So I’m really glad you came.” She smiled, and sipped her beer again. “Me too.”
There was a loud voice behind them. Time seemed to be outsourcing them, flapping by on wings made of ticking seconds and minutes. The voice was specified by a familiar accent that tickled the backs of necks and hands.
“Eddie.”
“Yeah? You need a refill?”
“No. I got it. Who is standing behind me? Tell me that isn’t…”
“Yeah, it’s Greg Short. Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stood, and the familiar voice of Greg Short trailed away down the hall with Eddie.
Lydia relaxed for a minute, and continued the game. It was nearly ending.
Lydia stood flusteredly, muttered something about the bathroom and began walking in the opposite direction. The picture in front of her proved to be blurred, and she used the wall for guidance. Short hair sprung in around her face. “Lydia!”
“Heather! Let’s smoke a joint. I’m going to start throwing punches.”
“Oh. Yeah okay. Let’s go.”
“Lydia!”
“Chris! To the outside, immediately. If this joint is not smoked right here, right now, punches will be thrown, throwing down will ensue, and it will all be from me.”
“What?”
Heather grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”
The three walked through excited groups of people, who were not thinking about joints or swinging arms, but instead on their excitement of being together. Dry humor, eyes damp from laughter.
On the back deck, Chris threw himself to the ground, and sprawled against a rusted round table, probably at one point used for eating during a barbeque. It hadn’t seen those days in years though.
“So what’s going on?” Chris asked, watching Lydia light the joint hazily.
“Greg Short. Do you know him? I despise him.”
Heather and Chris shrugged. Lydia was yelling in garbled tones about this Greg Short character, neither of them knowing of any wrongs committed by him unto her.
“The point being…he shouldn’t be here.” Lydia concluded, drawing her arms back to a normal standing pose.
“You should tell him that.” Chris’s head was nodding off to the side as he passed the joint to Heather.
Lydia’s phone rang from her pocket.
“Sweet jacket, dude.” Heather puffed heavily on the joint, reflecting mainly on her stature.
Lydia answered the call.
“Eddie? Are you calling me? I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“Back deck, staring over your lawn of foliage.”
“Oh. That’s a bad place. Come around to the front. My neighbors are angry people who hate parties and happiness.”
Lydia stared at the phone, then disconnected the call.
“We have to roll out to the front.” She concluded to the group. She helped Chris to his feet. He swayed with her and she guided him around the front. There was Eddie.
Lydia was glad for his approachable nature. She met him face to face and he drew his arm around her waist.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
A gentleman in a flannel shirt with dirty hair grabbed the open space in front of their conversation. He was smoking a hand rolled cigarette and flailing his arms.
“If I could be a lion, I would be. In a second!” He passed the cigarette to Eddie, who dragged on it.
“There would be nothing that could fuck with the wildness of a lion.” Lydia offered, falling a bit into Eddie’s shoulder. His hold on her belt loops tightened. He passed her the cigarette, and she dragged on it.
“What the fuck? I quit smoking cigarettes like three weeks ago!” She handed the cigarette back to its owner, and flung herself backwards against Eddie’s arm. Then she saw the jacket collar. The brutal memory of crying on a jacket collar like that one hit her the way the sunlight hit brick walls around noon.
“There he is,” she said to no one really. Eddie looked over her shoulder.
“Greg? It’s okay, we can go inside if you don’t want to talk to him.”
Lydia shook her head with liquid confidence. “No. I should at least say hi so this doesn’t start poking us.” Like bad news.
“Okay. I’ll stay here.”
Lydia stepped forward, and reached up for Greg’s shoulder.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cue coy smile.
Greg whirled around, coming downward to be face to face with her.
“I’m hanging out with my friends! How are you? You look great…”
“I am great. How’s school?”
“School’s good. I haven’t seen you in so long…”
“I’m actually going to school this semester, not just playing around while I live in the dorms.”
“I’m so sorry about not seeing you over the summer.”
“I think it’s time to go dance. I’ll see you later.”
When Lydia returned, Eddie’s hood was up. It was lined around the edges in fur.
“Let’s go dance.”
“It went well, then.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs. They opened the door to find a whole different scene before them. Lydia’s eyes drew themselves up from the sideways angle they had come to. Eddie headed toward the downward stairs, taking her with him by the fingers. She stopped and grabbed the sides of his hood, pulling him into a kiss. He didn’t object. He found her belt loops again, and she pulled further into her lips.
“You have nice hips.”
“Have you seen my tattoo yet?”
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”
She pushed one side of her pants even further down her hip, exposing ink and memories imprinted into her skin via black lines and dots. He pushed her hair aside and kissed her again. “Let’s go dance.”
The downstairs was a different scene from both upstairs and outside. The lights were colors, and the air was made of bumping beats. She put her coat down on his bed.
“This is my room.”
His hands found their longlost friends, the beltloops, and swung her into the music.
Somehow, everyone else disappeared as she pulled him into her chin again. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her low top hanging especially low and her unfocused eyes staring into Eddie’s hair. The beats surrounding her face were beginning to make her nauseous.
“I want to take this somewhere more private.” Eddie said into her hair.
“What?”
“I said you look gorgeous.”
The beats seemed to move her, first from the hips, then into Eddie’s neck.
A third figure joined their dance. “Eddie. Cops are here. They shouldn’t stay long.”
Eddie kissed Lydia’s fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
Lydia smiled and the beats died down to silence. She made a reach for her cell phone, and dialed Erin’s number, but there was no answer. She pretended she could see the screen and faked several fascinating text messages. Her face tightened. Greg stared at her from the other wall, and smiled, deciding now would be a good time for a talk.
“Lydia.” He was in front of her. His hands were deep in his pockets, and she felt immersed in a crater the way his huge shoulders seemed to surround her smaller ones all of a sudden.
“Lydia, I’m so sorry. I feel like a dick.”
Lydia smiled, her liquid confidence directing her path.
“I’m fine, Greg. I’m doing really well. I’m over it.”
“Yeah. You’re the only girl to ever make me feel this stupid.” He seemed to be hiding his eyes behind his nose, peering down at her from the cracks in his invisibility cloak.
“You look great, Lydia, Seriously.”
“So the music is going well?”
“Yeah. New York’s the best choice I ever made. I’m getting so many gigs. When you’re home, you should come check it out.”
Lydia smiled sadly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Greg.”
His hands shifted in his pockets. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
Lydia swayed in posture and decisions. “Yeah. It’s okay though. It was my fault too. I should have known when enough was enough.”
“I still think about you all the time.”
Lydia shifted again. Her eyes narrowed, allowing her to focus better on Greg’s idiot smile and huge stance before her.
“You never deserved me anyway. You just got lucky for a while.” She picked up her purse and her bad coat and walked out the door up the stairs.
“We need to pull out. As soon as possible.”
“But when we pull out, all hell will break loose.”
“Two feet are the only ones you can stand on, and most of the time they have to be your own.”
“I wish I had brought gloves.”
“True. But that’s a sick coat.”
“Those are fighting words.”
“This is the house.”
The girls walked up the malicious looking stairs, and entered the scene where it all began.
There he was. Eddie’s hair gave him away from across the room. Two deep breaths later, Lydia approached. “I made it.” She offered questioningly.
“I’m so glad you did.” Eddie slid over on his wooden seat. “ Have a seat. We’re playing kings. Bad coat.”
Lydia wasn’t sure if he meant that he disliked her coat, or that it was cool, so she did not respond. She slid her arms out of the zebra skin and took the seat Eddie offered. She pulled a beer out of her purse.
Someone drew a six card out of the pile.
“TO CHICKS!” Lydia shouted, raising her beer to meet the rest of the girls’ cups. She drank wholeheartedly. The other girls laughed, and drank in the same manner.
Someone else drew an Ace, commencing a waterfall, and Lydia put down a half empty beer can on the table.
She drew a 2 and looked at Eddie on her left.
“To you,” she tried out a sweet smile. He smiled back and sipped his own beer.
Eddie drew his card, then slyly slipped his arm around the back of the wooden chair they shared. “So I’m really glad you came.” She smiled, and sipped her beer again. “Me too.”
There was a loud voice behind them. Time seemed to be outsourcing them, flapping by on wings made of ticking seconds and minutes. The voice was specified by a familiar accent that tickled the backs of necks and hands.
“Eddie.”
“Yeah? You need a refill?”
“No. I got it. Who is standing behind me? Tell me that isn’t…”
“Yeah, it’s Greg Short. Is that a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stood, and the familiar voice of Greg Short trailed away down the hall with Eddie.
Lydia relaxed for a minute, and continued the game. It was nearly ending.
Lydia stood flusteredly, muttered something about the bathroom and began walking in the opposite direction. The picture in front of her proved to be blurred, and she used the wall for guidance. Short hair sprung in around her face. “Lydia!”
“Heather! Let’s smoke a joint. I’m going to start throwing punches.”
“Oh. Yeah okay. Let’s go.”
“Lydia!”
“Chris! To the outside, immediately. If this joint is not smoked right here, right now, punches will be thrown, throwing down will ensue, and it will all be from me.”
“What?”
Heather grabbed his arm. “Let’s go.”
The three walked through excited groups of people, who were not thinking about joints or swinging arms, but instead on their excitement of being together. Dry humor, eyes damp from laughter.
On the back deck, Chris threw himself to the ground, and sprawled against a rusted round table, probably at one point used for eating during a barbeque. It hadn’t seen those days in years though.
“So what’s going on?” Chris asked, watching Lydia light the joint hazily.
“Greg Short. Do you know him? I despise him.”
Heather and Chris shrugged. Lydia was yelling in garbled tones about this Greg Short character, neither of them knowing of any wrongs committed by him unto her.
“The point being…he shouldn’t be here.” Lydia concluded, drawing her arms back to a normal standing pose.
“You should tell him that.” Chris’s head was nodding off to the side as he passed the joint to Heather.
Lydia’s phone rang from her pocket.
“Sweet jacket, dude.” Heather puffed heavily on the joint, reflecting mainly on her stature.
Lydia answered the call.
“Eddie? Are you calling me? I’m outside.”
“Outside where?”
“Back deck, staring over your lawn of foliage.”
“Oh. That’s a bad place. Come around to the front. My neighbors are angry people who hate parties and happiness.”
Lydia stared at the phone, then disconnected the call.
“We have to roll out to the front.” She concluded to the group. She helped Chris to his feet. He swayed with her and she guided him around the front. There was Eddie.
Lydia was glad for his approachable nature. She met him face to face and he drew his arm around her waist.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
A gentleman in a flannel shirt with dirty hair grabbed the open space in front of their conversation. He was smoking a hand rolled cigarette and flailing his arms.
“If I could be a lion, I would be. In a second!” He passed the cigarette to Eddie, who dragged on it.
“There would be nothing that could fuck with the wildness of a lion.” Lydia offered, falling a bit into Eddie’s shoulder. His hold on her belt loops tightened. He passed her the cigarette, and she dragged on it.
“What the fuck? I quit smoking cigarettes like three weeks ago!” She handed the cigarette back to its owner, and flung herself backwards against Eddie’s arm. Then she saw the jacket collar. The brutal memory of crying on a jacket collar like that one hit her the way the sunlight hit brick walls around noon.
“There he is,” she said to no one really. Eddie looked over her shoulder.
“Greg? It’s okay, we can go inside if you don’t want to talk to him.”
Lydia shook her head with liquid confidence. “No. I should at least say hi so this doesn’t start poking us.” Like bad news.
“Okay. I’ll stay here.”
Lydia stepped forward, and reached up for Greg’s shoulder.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cue coy smile.
Greg whirled around, coming downward to be face to face with her.
“I’m hanging out with my friends! How are you? You look great…”
“I am great. How’s school?”
“School’s good. I haven’t seen you in so long…”
“I’m actually going to school this semester, not just playing around while I live in the dorms.”
“I’m so sorry about not seeing you over the summer.”
“I think it’s time to go dance. I’ll see you later.”
When Lydia returned, Eddie’s hood was up. It was lined around the edges in fur.
“Let’s go dance.”
“It went well, then.”
She grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs. They opened the door to find a whole different scene before them. Lydia’s eyes drew themselves up from the sideways angle they had come to. Eddie headed toward the downward stairs, taking her with him by the fingers. She stopped and grabbed the sides of his hood, pulling him into a kiss. He didn’t object. He found her belt loops again, and she pulled further into her lips.
“You have nice hips.”
“Have you seen my tattoo yet?”
“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.”
She pushed one side of her pants even further down her hip, exposing ink and memories imprinted into her skin via black lines and dots. He pushed her hair aside and kissed her again. “Let’s go dance.”
The downstairs was a different scene from both upstairs and outside. The lights were colors, and the air was made of bumping beats. She put her coat down on his bed.
“This is my room.”
His hands found their longlost friends, the beltloops, and swung her into the music.
Somehow, everyone else disappeared as she pulled him into her chin again. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her low top hanging especially low and her unfocused eyes staring into Eddie’s hair. The beats surrounding her face were beginning to make her nauseous.
“I want to take this somewhere more private.” Eddie said into her hair.
“What?”
“I said you look gorgeous.”
The beats seemed to move her, first from the hips, then into Eddie’s neck.
A third figure joined their dance. “Eddie. Cops are here. They shouldn’t stay long.”
Eddie kissed Lydia’s fingers. “I’ll be right back.”
Lydia smiled and the beats died down to silence. She made a reach for her cell phone, and dialed Erin’s number, but there was no answer. She pretended she could see the screen and faked several fascinating text messages. Her face tightened. Greg stared at her from the other wall, and smiled, deciding now would be a good time for a talk.
“Lydia.” He was in front of her. His hands were deep in his pockets, and she felt immersed in a crater the way his huge shoulders seemed to surround her smaller ones all of a sudden.
“Lydia, I’m so sorry. I feel like a dick.”
Lydia smiled, her liquid confidence directing her path.
“I’m fine, Greg. I’m doing really well. I’m over it.”
“Yeah. You’re the only girl to ever make me feel this stupid.” He seemed to be hiding his eyes behind his nose, peering down at her from the cracks in his invisibility cloak.
“You look great, Lydia, Seriously.”
“So the music is going well?”
“Yeah. New York’s the best choice I ever made. I’m getting so many gigs. When you’re home, you should come check it out.”
Lydia smiled sadly. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Greg.”
His hands shifted in his pockets. “I’m so sorry about everything.”
Lydia swayed in posture and decisions. “Yeah. It’s okay though. It was my fault too. I should have known when enough was enough.”
“I still think about you all the time.”
Lydia shifted again. Her eyes narrowed, allowing her to focus better on Greg’s idiot smile and huge stance before her.
“You never deserved me anyway. You just got lucky for a while.” She picked up her purse and her bad coat and walked out the door up the stairs.
-LBR
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