```+"There is a fourth and a fifth dimension in literature"
Ernest Hemingway
What's past, present. What's future, written.
The sun, showed, fast and furious.
My face, pounded, by the glare.
I see what I can not comprehend.
I reach for the steering wheel, adjusting the rear-view mirror.
The road lays bare, for miles. The animal, sat. It's head, crumpled, under its limbs. A car, passed. I'm looking. Dry blood, and a menacing tail, lingered. Flies, and they're at work.
Am I my brother's keeper?
Drove, with the car top down. My Mustang, revving on all cylinders. Sleek red, just out from the car wash.
Then, looking. Going down hill, the other cars come down from the other hill. In the shadows, as ghosts. Each of us passing, in silence. Knowing not one another, feeling nothing but for the songs cast out from the machine.
"Trev" she, quivered. "Soon"
"Yes" I, quickly.
She, breathed "can't wait"
"Me" holding it.
"We" "a new start"
"Fresh," exhaled.
Hung, up. The room, quiet. It pierced my soul. Her voice, echoed. Chambers, I did not know that I had within. I want to reach for the tv. Sat, with it bouncing inside me. Smiled, but with a blush of bitterness.
There would be no going back to school.
The music, Bruuuce. The piano, with drums. Pounded, with them falling down my cheeks.
"So your going" the old man, under the morning sky.
I, "Jake, with the hay"
Him, his eyes down. "Your horses"
"They're good for glue"
Frowned "Your Ma"
You buried her, didn't you
"Your sister"
"Forget it"
Hands, his pockets. "Did I"
"Nothing"
The old plow, my first.
"Bury that"
He, "you should never" "to New York"
His eyes, shifted. "Now" "Going back"
"No quitter"
"Bull--" Hi's head, forward. "Better to live"
"Thank you." "Write that one"
A pair of jeans, socks, and two shirts. Red door, slammed. Back, from the mirror, and he's just standing there. Head down, but looking neither up or down. The engine, and I hit with the foot.
Behind, dust and the roof of the house where my mom lived.
2
The highway, with the wind, my face. The guitars, pounded. Rolling green, with clear blue up above. I, smiled.
Sherri lives just outside Troy, N.Y. Small houses, distant from each other. Onto the long driveway, noticing the open mailbox with mail in it.
At the door, her ma.
"So, the hero"
"Just " "her happiness" "just helping"
Short, fat, with curly black hair.
"She'll never"
"She'll make it" I, not believing she'd want the worst for her daughter.
"Sorry" looking away "tired"
Coming down the stairs, softly touching the railing. Her strawberry-blond hair, puffed. Her slender eyes looking down, in thought. She, at me. My heart, felt. Smiling
"Hey Trev"
"Hey"
Her old man, in the dinning room. "My beer" Her ma, moved. "Gettin' excatin' round"
I, "You look"
She, smiled.
"Nice shirt"
Mike and Jenny?
"Married" she, paused. "Apartment, River road"
"Idiots"
We, laughed.
"Let's" peered, deep into her blues.
"Yes!"
Outside, the bag to the trunk, green. A neighbor, on a lawn mower. Cars, passed. The trees, boring in their likeness, stood. There's no breeze, and the only sound is that damn lawn mower.
Now she comes. Head, bowed. Trying to keep it from her face, with her tight butt wiggling with excitement.
"To fame and fortune" she laughs.
"Till sex do us part"
She, annoyed. But her smile persists.
Into the car, slammed. My tires, squealed.
"Sorry pa!"
And now a varoom onto the street. Wanting to stick it to the guy on the lawn mower, but I'm not rude.
3
"So good"
I, "Yeah" at her tank top, her blue-jean skirt. No bra, and I'm not sure.
"All the way"
"Right"
"You"
"I'm a dead man"
Scoffed, "They say"
"Doctors" "To hell"
"Don't"
"Believe" "hell?"
"You know" "Catholic"
I, "Easier to fall" scoffed.
"I" she, laughing "your cynicism"
"Believe" I, looking "in love"
Her eyes, softened. She looks away. "Sweet, Trevor"
She has a hard voice, like a chief engineer. Mine, somewhat soft, I'm embarrassed to say.
"That night"
"Forget it"
She, softened. "I meant what I"
"I know"
There's a bridge that crosses over into the area before New York City. Cash, at the bridge guy. I, laughed. Thanks Ma.
The buildings stretch out before our eyes. Rose, like a collases of inhuman cement against all that is earthly, clean.
"Scared" she, with her eyes fixed.
"You'll be"
Off the main highway and onto F.D.R. That old smell, like a familiar odor that reminds you of hard work. The bright lights block out the black sky. Everywhere cars, people; like being in a pinball machine.
Parked, and the zoot-suit goes for the bag. A five, and we head in.
A shower, and she comes out. She's always taking showers. Her hair, still wet. Marveled, at how it's deep and dark.
"Good to" she, glanced.
My hand, her hair.
"Trev"
"I" our lips, and her breath in mine. Slow, onto the bed. Her hard nipples, my fingers. Her lips, my neck.
"Trev"
Slowly reaching, and then
"Sorry"
and I "On the floor"
A pillow, and I shut my eyes. She, breathed. I lay there for a few hours, till we both fall asleep.
4
Gin, it's always has to be gin. Ice, and I knock 'em.
"An apartment" she, engineering.
"Right"
I jump in the shower, laughed. Soap, and that special shampoo. The razor, and the after-stuff. Nose hairs, snapped. Under the arms, and over my head.
"You look" she, pushing her hair back.
"Not as good"
Laughed, and the chief is a girl. She's a wonderful girl.
Hand, the glass, and I down it.
Yeah, thanks Ma.
Legs like a woman, but shoulders like a man.
"Aried" she, delicate but with purpose.
"Sherri" and they shake hands.
I'm silent.
"He"
"Oh, no"
Now they babble.
"An actress" Sherri, intently into those black eyes.
"Inta music"
Nice tits, thought. But those shoulders...
Finally, "Well, you're in"
And, "I'll" " My luggage"
Aried, a faint smile.
Outside. The traffic, flowed. "I'm in" she, with her eyes on the pavement.
Her butt's tight, and it looks unsure.
"Acting classes"
"Right"
And she, towards a newsstand.
5
Jake and Robin, and Jake certainly could pass for Batman.
"Trevor!" he, with that perfect hair, deep dark and brown, and that pompous grin. He always smells great, and he'll never tell me how. But he's my best friend.
"Jake you prick"
Our shoulders, knocked. Hands, clasped.
"N.Y.U?"
"N.Y.U.'s shit"
"Your girl?"
I, "The bitch's room"
Laughed, and he shoves a beer.
"Gin, damn you" I, serious "only gin". Then, bursting out with a laugh.
"Master Thayer," and my heart rises.
"Rob" I, cried. "My favourite Jew"
He, blushed. "You with her"
"Yes"
His soft features, those eyebrows. Shoulder length hair, graced, the tweed jacket.
I, "Poetry"
"Still"
"A regular" "Edward Allen Poe"
"Stop it, Jake"
"He wants to" "in the gutter"
"I'll join him" I, and I notice Jake's face. "That is Sherri"
Her hair, held up, with her neck bare.V down her chest, with some petite skin showing. There's a little rose on the side of her black sweater.
Yeah, it's air-conditioned. But why is she wearing a sweater in this weather.
Jake, smiled. His eyes went from her blue mini up to her eyes.
In-tro-ductions, and I'm sweating. Her eyes, at him. I find my words dropping, and like a fool I try to fall after them.
"She" "an actress"
"Oh, you'll" Jake, and I'm looking for the bull fighter's sword.
"Thank you"
Robin looks down, embarrassed.
"Come" Jake, grabbing at her hand "dance"
Me and Robin, sat.
"Obsession" and they're really going at it. My chief has turned into a leaf, blowing about, looking to be snatched.
"Mr. Thayer" Robin, with soft eyes. "You need air"
Outside, and their bouncing around. The naked and the elderly, young bodies with burnt passions.
"Gin" says Robin, and the fellow with the placard darts around.
"Thanks" I, with a lead in my chest, pulled.
The troops, moved. To and a-fro, hands on pocket-books. Heels, pavement, pounded.
"Your sister"
"She's fine"
Robin always knew how to distract me.
I, "Your grades"
Scoffed, and he finishes with a smile.
"You'll" "the gutter"
" Join me"
Laughed, and there's a girl with her hand in a stud's back pocket. A string, round her waist.
"New style?"
He, "From last year"
"I love her" I, at my head. My other, too slow for gin.
His, on mine. Slow, and it came like a bolt from the sky.
I, backed. The chair, and I'm looking at him
"Trevor"
Through the crowd, with him calling behind. Slammed, against the bodies, some pushing back.
On Irving Street, and a newsstand. The New York Times, and Where's the nearest liquor store.
The morning, blurred. Off the bed, rolled. My clothes are still on. To hell with the shower.
A glass, and I make sure to put more water.
Knocked, the door.
Pouting "It's" "hot" she's wearing Jake's shirt.
"I must" and she heads for the shower.
"Where'd you" and I, but she can't hear.
After, all fresh, and with a hint of perfume. No make-up, and that's' why I love her.
"You look"
And she, smiled, like she is trying to pull something from her face.
"I" "My luggage" "the apartment"
Drank, and at the bed, tossed. "Sure"
When you go down the stairs to the subway, you leave behind all last vestiges of life. There's the smell, and the dark entrapment which knows no sunshine. There are the advertisements, of course. The bum with the cup, the lifeless face behind the glass encasement. Your thigh, cold steel, and you're in. Down the stairs, and the heat, with your drunk muscles crying for a drop of the clear and fresh. Black slabs, with cheerless signs commenting on the street address. Below, the rail that feeds the machines. Furry, grey and grotesque, they scurry about. How they know not to touch the rail, wondered.
Stunned, that she remains oblivious.
"I" "a part-time"
The sweat, my chest, and I surrender.
The noise, and its light surges.
"Is this"
"Yes"
My ears, and the doors. The hoards come, and we squeeze in.
Sherri, at the map. "Nine stops"
Shook, and I'm holding on.
"Trev," she "you could get"
The machine is air-conditioned, with the taste. I, my chest. Then, slowing. The doors, and they get off. A very fat black woman, with a cane. She's breathing, sweated. I'm studying her, and I on how much can a human being eat.
"Trev"
Sitting next to the large black woman is a man. Cheap suit, closely cropped 'stache, a briefcase. An accountant, gotta be.
I, at Sherri. She's wearing earrings, silver.
The beast, slowed. The voice of the conductor, and the doors.
I, moved.
"But we're not", she.
"I'm getting off"
The platform, black with soot, up the stairway.
Turned, and I see Sherri. Head slightly bows, her eyes, looking neither up nor down.
II
Prague, 1992
The buildings, cluster, like old bodies falling. Large brick, felt, upon each other,like they'll bleed if cut with a knife in. The stones along the street, breathed. Pursue, a vapor ascending to fall upon.
What makes a man human, what makes a woman sing.
The stores are new, but the restaurants still dusty. The prices are good, I. Mom's dough can only go so far. A piece of meat, and it might as well have been tofu.
"Yeshto Pivo" I, the Czech with the F- me look on his face.
Yellow, deep and rich, white on top. Never thought I'd enjoy another beer, I.
"You, American"
Tall, with a firm complexion, boyish face.
"Yes I am" I, smile.
"May I"
"Of course"
Tobi, and he became my friend. His parents, an apartment nearby, a building half a thousand years old. I'd have some home-made meals, and we'd talk politics. How America betrayed them, and that now the Krauts were buying.
2
Along the Vlatava River, a small island.
Jeremy, with guitar. His hair, like he didn't know a comb. Playing, sweet and soft. "Wild Horses" and we joined in. They were younger than me, but it may as well have been centuries. Soothing, till I, what they'll do after the singing.
A soul, and what does it look like
I, fall, upon the bricks. My heart, heaving. Scratching, with the white marks left behind. They, pass. Silly American.
At the Hall of Justice, and I nodded. "Yeshto Pivo"
Tall like a fortress, twice as strong as States side brew. Half the price.
"Writer? or artist?"
He, cropped hair. Sharp nose, a chiseled chin.
"Useless and worthless"
Laughs, and we shook hands.
A playwright, and living off a disability check.
"The girls"he "They could"
"For sure" I, grimacing. "Definite model"
"You been hurt"
I, at him.
He said he never even got close.
"Good for you"
"What's her name"
"Drop it"
"Been laid in"
I, yawn.
He talked about his movie, and that he was looking for the next John Wayne.
There are no more John Waynes, I told him. Now, his beer, at the table, that's what he'll base his script on.
Last line of the film, Casablanca, and we proceeded to get drunk.
"Out, Americans Out"
We, laughing, onto the ancient pavement. The sun was starting, and it looked beautiful along the river, then the bridge. Now, the castle, where a king once lived. It stood tall, and without embarrassment.
Chris Carter knew his way home, and I tagged along.
3
Walking, in the morning. Hot, like it was stretching every bone off my skin.
An old man, and he handed me a cup of water.
"Danka" forgetting, the word in Czech.
The trees, brushing. The road, paved like back home.
Onto the dirt, and then the grass. I, fall.
On one knee, and it came out. A ball, fiery but with confidence. Hovering, it seemed to glance back at me. Now, staring. I wondered if anyone else would ever see it.
My soul, glances. I quivered.
An auto, passes. I got up.
4
C.C., scratches. A mustache, and he was working on that Indiana Jones look.
"A soul" he, "but where"
"Where your genes"
He, "not wearing any"
"Not funny"
"Does this" "can't get laid"
"Now you're funny"
His beer, and he was fighting annoyance.
"Can't prove"
"Maybe"
Up, and I went to the bar. On the counter, fresh with white foam.
C.C., smiles. Now, "Mine must look"
"Can't judge"
He, blushes.
"T.T." he "You should write"
"Someone already did"
Now, I "Do you believe"
"Trying not to"
I, smile.
Rain, starts. Slow but then hard. The door, open, and the man behind the bar, moves.
"It's a hard-ache" C.C., humming. "Nothing but a"
Feeling, calm. It all seemed comfortable, with every detail falling into place.
"What the Yankees" C.C., suddenly looking out of place.
Stomping, and he lifted himself up.
"Who's buying"
"I'll buy", and I pulled it out. Nervous, my pocket was not that full.
At the legal tender, before he snatched it up.
5
Children, playing. They ran in circles, clawing and laughing. Touching, and cried amicably.
I, sat. The wind, softly, my face. My head bowed. I, cry.
"In the crash"
"We're sorry" the nurse, quickly.
"But the blood"
"It rarely"
The doctor, the white, clutching, wires.
"When symptoms"
"Treatment"
I prayed, but I knew it was useless.
The kids kept running. A ball, bouncing. Red, and they kicked stupidly. Now, adults voice, and they fell in line. Giggling, as they marched off.
6
The Debates, the Southern Guy, the guy with the ears, and the Man From Uncle.
She, intently, and with a persistent smile. Her legs, sleek, from the mini-skirt. Breast, protruding. I wanted them.
"I", gushed "For single mothers"
It's the economy, blowhard.
"But" I, reaching "A father"
"Men are insane"
Along her leg, my hand, and her chest rose.
"You're good" and she grabbed mine. Thighs, and I pulled her panties.
"Trevi" her neck, and then at the breasts.
My hand, inside her. She, screams.
"Sorry" sighing "It's been a"
I let her catch her breath.
"I have" and she gave a start. Hand, to her mouth.
"I'm so"
"Thanks" As a gentleman, I had to tell her.
Outside, and onto the tram. Sitting, and they appeared lifeless. Eyes straight ahead, with no expression. I, stand. Holding, the rail, and at the street lights.
Off, and I headed to the river. To jump in, and disappear. Vlatava meant threshold. Leaning, over.
Two or three beers, and I hit the pork or pig-something burger stand.
The next morning, and the bricks of the castle.
The soul is a piece from over there. It knows no prejudice, fears no weather, harbingers no guilt. It is a scenery of its own, hiding silent within. But it makes itself known when betrayed. It thirsts for cleansing, it thrives for purity. It is a child, sensitive and tender, unforgiving and in constant need.
The kid took out his fishing rod. Swings, and it zipped in.
"Your ma's nice" I, but I didn't think he understood.
Pointing, "In English"
"Fish"
"You like?"
Nodding, and I pulled out a bottle of vino.
"Your brother"
"In army"
"Your pa"
Silence, and he reeled it in.
"KGB get him"
"Here?"
"I chate Russians"
The Cold War was real. I, pouring. Red, tough but it kicked. We won. Sliced scheese, and I stuck my finger in the hole.
I, the kid.
"Tanka"
"Sure"
Smiles, red freckles.
At the apartment, his mom comes out of her room. Icho, behind her, grins.
"Dobri den"
She, smiling. The kid bowed. Now, to his room.
"You like" she, at her dress.
I, my head. "Regular heart-break"
Laughing, but she didn't understand.
"Have din-ner?"
"Sure"
7
At the tavern, and C.C.'s buying.
"You realize" he, a bit pompous. "You can't prove"
"Just listen" I, "the Moody Blues"
"It doesn't"
I, "You're in love"
His glass, "I've never"
"Your problem"
I, pushed. The scenery looked old, the tables repugnant.
"You're homesick"
I, the stained wall. "No just sick"
"Get over"
"Easy for you"
"F-- off" now, getting agitated. "Your palatial excuse"
"Die, will you" "Its is over"
"Not very optimistic"
"I'm dead"
"You f-- quiter"
I, look. He'd shaved, and his eyes were very focused.
"Another beer"
"Sure"
To the bar, and he came back smiling.
"t.t. you're my"
"You're mine too"
His eyes, and they were quiet.
"Wonder" him, "the Yankees"
"F-- the Yankees"
"Your boy, Donnie?"
"Mrs. Robinson"
Laughs, and he brushed his head back. In a different century he could've been Senator.
"My script it"
"It's garbage"
"I" fighting off annoyance "I'm trying"
I wanted to tell him is that all you're worth, but he was right, I quit.
A red-head, and she smiled. C.C., looks.
"She love you"
And he, away.
"I'll never get"
"Sure you will"
He, up. Now, the door. "Don't quit" and he didn't look back.
8
There was the New Prague, and there was the Old. The old was for the rich, the new bought by the Krouts. In th Old, the picture perfect. Each building hand-craft, the paint solemn but friendly to its inhabitants.
A wall, with pictures and words. Mr. Lennon. He took the words, killed the messanger. You were right, I, nodding. More popular. Prettier, too.
"Do you like"
I, smiling. "Big fan"
"I'm sor-ry"
"We all are"
"Do you thing" "the C.I.A"
I, look. Brown hair, with glossy eyes.
"What difference"
She, frowns. "All you need"
I, with pure hatred. Nodding, and I moved on.
There was another castle, and it's just for show. True, there was a cemetary. The heat bore down. My shirt, soaking. And I could feel my self giving out.
The soul breathes. It needs love, a place to call home. It needs purpose and purity, a comfort against the hard terrain. It laughs, cries, and when a man dies it remains. That is why one must be buried. Until finaly it is called forth.
"Trevi"
She, with her make-up. Them earings, cylindars.
"You look"
She, blushes.
"I thought of"
I, away. They were getting ready for the saturday night bash, a thing they called the rave, ecstasy. Stoned, and then they danced. After that, mayhen.
"You're more dead"
She, grimaces. Her blond hair, pullin. "Where's that'"
"From within"
"So" "a saint"
I, the gin, but I didn't have enough.
Buck Henry, passing. She, smiles.
"Gotta go"
Off they went, the dance floor. Mr. Lennon and his band, and I, a pang. Not for her, but for the dance. Arms, flailing. Hips, jiving. He grabbed her breast. She, laughs. She kept her distance, though.
9
At the apartment, hard boiled egg. There would be songs to sing, for sure. But they'll be tears, as well. Cracking, and I ripped it off slow.
What's to live for? the pain, boring. I carry it within, and it beckons for its maker.
Will you stay silent forever, the psalm. He just hides, staring at me. Sometimes laughing, mostly silent. Contemplation, there must be a place for it.
The water, boils. Whistling, and I grab it with the cloth. The impurity, lingers. It, hovers. Agonizing, I stood. The china cup, and I believe. Drink, and my eyes, mist.
My soul, shines. And I laugh.
10
Never begrude the sinful. The sun, shows, fierce.
Tobi, tall and lanky. "Cigarette" and I take.
Flash, and it came in. Slow, with a tender substance. It conquered, inside, and I breathed it out. Soothing, and my soul released.
"F-- sem"
He, with annoyance.
Their just farmers on the prairey, I. Takin' the plow to the ground, goin' shopping.
"I chate"
I, "What's her name"
He, smiles. "Rebbeka" blushing. "American"
So, Mr. Tobi got
"Yes" laughing.
The guy at the bar, looks. Thinking, his face, hard.
"Is she"
"She is" "Yes"
"Don't worry"
His expression, harsh.
"F-- it"
Seems he's learning the language quit well, I.
He, "My sister"
"No" I "a girl" "The States"
His brown eyes, tender.
"She"
"She is"
His paper clips, and another round. "My parents"
"Anyway you can"
Smiling, and he downed it. Slow, sipping. It's almost time.
11
The fake castle, and I got the Beatles. She Loves You, and then I'm A Loser. My own mix, and I'm quite pleased.
It must begin, but where? A strike, like lightning in a bottle. Concieves, and all existance lied bare. There was no turning back, and no looking forward. Thanks, Pat Benetar.
A butterfly, my arm, graces. Beautiful, I, and then the anger started.
Are we that blind? or are we the New Romans?
Tears, and my hand shook. The betrayal, and I knew it was useless.
Police chase criminals, dogs chase cats after balls. Who defends the indifensible?
My mind craved gin, but my sould wondered off. My heard, stops. I, she needs me. But I refuse to.
12
The Czech and Slovaks were talking of partition. A clean divorce, as if there was such.
"Bloody Havel" C.C., pork fart. "In the castle"
"Your just jealouse"
"It's a great"
"Fabulous" I, the pork grinds. "Room service"
"No playwright"
"Not anymore" I, smile. "Take Slovakia"
"The bloody Krauts"
"It's legale"
Yeah, "This time"
They came marching in. Tall, the tourist march. An old fart, like he was sitting there for thirty years. Up, the restaraunteer, motions. His face, and then he slumbered out the door.
I, "Money"
"Those bloody Krauts"
"He" I, pointing. "L.A. riot"
His head, shaking. That is one F-- up country, he.
I, laughing. "Houses with no"
C.C., annoyed. "You're the poet"
"Just bored"
A girl, with pettite breast. My heart, sinks. "I just can't"
"Hey, Trev" his voice, soft. Him, that I'll see her again. That it'll all work out.
Laugh, "Bull s--t", scoff, "but well meant"
There was a juke box, and I didn't care how much I had. "Fire And Rain", and I cried.
13
With the kid, and I shared ice cream. Licks, like there's no tomorrow.
"Slow down"
Laughs, and he's having a ball. I was beginning to think I could be young again.
"I have" he, smiling. His teeth, dripping. "Yu love"
I, away. "Someone"
"A girrrl!"
I, blush.
"Das she"
"Yes, she does"
"Why"
Reach, for the camera. "Smile" I, motioning. The ice cream, thrusts, in the air, as he laughed. My heart, stops. She would like him, I.
"Wha hwwer nem" and I tell him..
"Like sa wine?"
"Better"
Looks, hard. "You should" and that he'll mees me.
I wanted to, but I was happy to be
"Your big brother"
"Soone"
I, nodding.
"Let's go"
14
In the shadows, underneath the trees. Starting, and I watched it fall. Slow, then with a hard substance.
It streches in your body, with roots from your heart to the brain and yeah, down there. It knows no anger, only refuge. It cries for mercy, it begs for clemency. It'll last forever and I can die tomorrow.
And when shaken it's pleased, and when it lays dormant it torments. It must be sustained, soothed, but not codelled. It must be striken bare, but not left alone.
It can be bought and sold, but it can't be packaged. Go ahead, stick a for- sale sign on it mister, but there isn't a bag in the world that can carry it.
C.C., betrays. Trying, to hold it in. His eyes, shine.
"What's her name"
Laughs, and it was genuine.
"Karmela"
A perfect Czech.
"What's she want"
Now, serious. His chin, and I noticed it was shaved.
"Ah donno" scoffing. His hand, gestures.
"Get what you"
Scoffing, "Sure, that's great"
Did you
Looking, "not yet" And then, "You would"
I, "Who would care"
"Her parents"
In this part of the world, sure. I, "You intend"
"F-- intentions"
"Quite the poet"
He, smiling. "Thanks Trev" with not a hint of irony.
"You're getting good"
Now, like he's hurt.
"You're my friend"
"Are we" my beer, and I pushed it. Up, and I grabbed my jacket.
"We're strangers"
"Look, I didn'nt"
But "You will"
Him, his eyebrows hooked. "Quite the saint"
"right"
There was a couple, and they were at it.
"Planet of the"
"Shut up, freak" C.C., laughing.
"Cheers"
"Dobri den"
It was Prague, 1992. The war, over, and nobody had won. Does anybody?
"Ask the Jews" he, laughs.
"A third?"
Maybe we lived through it, he.
Then good ridance. Because without war, what is the world for?
"It was dark, and with a stray cat closely. Stretching, on the lawn, among the trees. His presence, and I felt a coolnes brush off the summer heat. Yawning, and I was ready to go.
The gutucks, where the body and soul meet. I felt it heal. Covering, like with cement. The past present. But it is conquerered, and the sins of the world, sins of our fathers, can't touch you anymore.
Down my pants, soothing. The Father, as the Father in me.
In years to come I would deny it, I would regret it, and I would curse the day I was born. But that night, peace.
16
The kid, and we're playing chess,
"Wait" "till you're married"
"Nobody does"
At him, hard.
I do
"You" "No choice"
"Check"
"You," "easy way"
Check, I. He, scoffs.
"It dasne't matter"
His hand, steady, but feeble.
"I, girls"
My insides, harden.
"You don't" Know
He, that it was so Nineteenth Century, with his eyes.
And in the end, the love you take, what garbage.
"Your ma"
"I like him"
"Sure"
You dan't?
My insides, tremble. "There's right and"
Scoffs, "You saint"
I heard this before, of course. I was not going to take it from a twelve year old. Cheap Rent be damned.
"Ma's a whoe"
His eyes, fearing.
"She's a slut"
Face, reddening.
She "doesn't love you" I, with relish. "She can not"
And that "She's not a" True Woman.
The king, my eye. I must admit, I enjoyed it. Up, and to his room. Crying, and I could only laugh. And the children shall lead? Not this generation. If Hemingway's were lost, than this one surely never got a start.
17
The castle, and I was looking for Havel, "Cmon pres" I, banging. "Open up" Security, and I laughed at the uniform.
"Dobri den"
He, smirks. Silly Americans.
Onto the Charles Bridge, stumble.
"Hey Ray" and he was playing for coins.
"Trevor, I'm conducting"
"Sure" I, kicking his box. "Play some Beatles"
He opted for R.E.M. instead.
"What a hoser"
Later, at the Bunker. R.E.M again, but it was really them. I was dancing. "Losing My Religion" and she was really going at it.
Up the stairs, passed the bouncer. Czeck's on me, his shirt. Laughing, unctrollable, and she pulled at me. In the alley, and my hands, her breasts. Moaning, and I was ready to pull it. Zipping, and my heart, stops.
"Sorry" and I was ready to cry.
"Vat?" and I, stumbling.
"It's ok", moving.
There was a deep loneliness starting to decend over me. It hadn't occured before, but it felt I'd known it a long time.
Interesting distraction, wasn't she.
I, to the ground. My fingertips, dirt. I could feel the anger. His breath salty, and warm.
Run, little one. Run . A love that's true knows no end and no beginning.
Up, off the ground. My tram was coming. Its light, glaring.
III
The buildings, stood, as they always have. Proud, and pugnacious, owing nothing to no one and feeling no remorse. They breathe resiliance, and they spit out insincerity. They shaped by money, and they sustain only misery. Mercury runs though its veins, oil its sustanance, plutonium its inheritance.
My friend Jake, blushed. His hair, not as thick. His smile, dimmed.
"Sorry Trev"
I, his shoulder.
"You look diff", he.
"I feel diff"
Him, with his eyes. "What happened?"
"I got"
Laughed, "You need a"
"To crash? Yes"
"My place" and it feels like an old pair of trousers.
"Robin?"
"China, to teah Latin"
"Hugh?"
Their swallowing everything over there, he.
"Latin?"
Laughed, "Something between you?"
"It was nothing"
"He was sorry"
"F-- it"
"How was Prague" he, "My mother with"
I, thinking of Gin.
Laughs, "You're still you"
"Yeah, just broke"
At the dart board, and I'm going at it. Nailed, the red.
"That was fast"
"Another beer!"
"On it"
"Hurry, you sap"
Laughed, faintly.
The bar tender, eyeing me. "Tell your friend" and Jake pulls me aside. "Take it easy"
"I got nothing" and my insides, quivered.
"You should see"
I, that she doesn't love me.
"Yeah, she does"
I, at him. "You F--d her"
Eyes, down. "It was just"
"Sure" I, with it dripping. "Aren't they all?"
Away, and I can see the lines in his face.
"You got old"
"And you" his eyes, like a cobra. "You got poor"
I, something. Everything (I learned), I don't remember.
"Sorry Jake"
He, smiled.
Suddenly, he cometh.
"Hey Trev"
I, turned. He, like something out of a black hole. My butt, protected.
"How was"
Looked, far.
"You're a betrayer"
"I'm sorry"
His vioce, feeble.
I, swelled.
"I wanted to"
"You either kill" I, smirked "or you don't"
Looked, down. "It's who I"
Then you're a dweeb! and my fist, flew.
Robin, to the ground, laughed.
"That's it" the bartender, with a bat. "Out"
I stand. "Jake"
He's handling his glass. "Robin's my friend"
I, the door, went.
2
It's chilly, and winter's close. Wandered. through the Village. The wanna-be tourists, the coke-dealers. Just a sewage, but it is my American Sewage.
Up Fifth, passing the lifeless white folks at Bloomingdales. Blah-blah store, and upon writing this there's our fearless leader Mayor Blah-blah.
Rockefeller Center, and I'm laughing. Rich guy, needing to put his name all over it.
They're skating, and I'm looking at it. Gold, with his physeqe, stretched. "Phoney Romans" I, looked. At the inscription "Prometheus" "The fire" "the arts" I, laughed.
Along the River front, jogged. The lights on the river, shined. The stairs, and Aried opens the door.
Scoffed, "What are you"
"Where is she"
2
Through the living room, and at her door.
Aried, "Sherri"
Opened, and here eyes, widened. Her mouth, and then at Aried. Her hand, motioning. "Quick"
The door, and she drops to her bed. "Trev" and, then "Oh my Trevor"
My hands, arms at her knees. "Sher"
"I missed you" and they're dropping.
Eyes, on her shoulder. "Sherri"
I, about Jake.
"I don't care"
Her hand, my face.
My fingers, along her nose, pointy. Then, her lips. Tight, and the chief engineer's chin.
"I love you"
And now they're falling, my eyes. She, that she doesn't care how long we got.
I, at the wall. Pale and decrepit, pealed.
3
On her bed, with our arms, wrapped.
My name, and I pull her close. My hand, her breast, graced.
Trevor. Her face in mine. Our tears, mingled. Waterfalls as one.
Now I drop down, my lips on her stomach. Quivered, and I smile for the first time in my life.
"Love you, Sher"
Feeling her smile, I go back up.
"I don't" I, feeling it hit "you to suffer"
Her hand, my face, smacked. "Shut up" Then "You're mine"
Feeling the sting, suddenly happy.
There is a symphony inside, and the outside's the's peace, total surrender.
The window, at the red bricks. The soft light, and the dawn is coming.
Grabbed, me. I kiss her forhead.
"So much time" Sherri, lamented.
It was worth it, I, nodded.
"You're diff" "a good way"
"You need work" I, honestly.
I do, she. My heart, stopped.
We'll do it together?
"Yes"
And our smiles, poured, one another.
Her tee'shirt, white, and I can never get tired of them, shouting out to be heard, and seen. Nipples, hard. A heavy weight, off my shouldes.
Sherri, suddenly. At the door. We got to get out of here. Trembled, and I pat her hair.
I, that I have to use the phone.
Who
"My old man"
Why
"Were going home"
