The Warrior Poet

The Warrior Poet

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thud thud thud thud. Thump-thump, thump-thump.

His eyes shot open, fear coursing through his veins. I couldn’t have been that careless, he thought. His vision drifted into focus, the bland walls sparking memory. The night before…

Why Thursday nights are the big party night for college students he never understood, but it made for pleasant views in the club. The crowds pushed and drank no more than any other night. Violent outbursts, his specialty, were kept to a minimum. A few broken morons tend to start a reputation.
The music wound down, the guests drifted out, drunk and sober, together or alone, and he punched out. His motorcycle rested just outside the rear exit. It hummed to life quickly and carried him through his usual haunts. The slums and badlands of the city were always populated at three am. The drug dealers, addicts and the in betweens were most active before the sun came up, matching his life since he started at the club.
He drove past a row of broken streetlights, fresh shell casings on the street. The prostitutes migrated, guided by their pimps, staying ahead of the police. The lights began again, bathing the pimp’s bumper in light as he kept vigil over his girls.
Most he’d seen before, some he’d tasted. But not the one on the end, she was young. He slowed as he drew close, listening for the pimp to slam his car door. He fixed his overlarge belt buckle, gold or silver the bouncer couldn’t tell. The man’s footsteps were loud in the darkness, subdued slightly when he entered the light. A moment’s glance brought recognition.
The bouncer again, the pimp thought, he’s never trouble. He turned back to the car, a lithe hand pushing the door open for him.
Without a word, the young girl stepped close to the motorcycle. Apprehension hidden well, she stroked his arm while he looked her up and down.
“Hop on,” he said, kicking the bike back to life. She climbed behind him, holding tightly as he sped into the night.
The motel clerk nodded at him as he dropped a credit card on the desk. The motorcycle was signal enough. The girl waited by the bike, following the bouncer. He opened the door, holding it for her to enter first. Her apprehension tripped her up for a moment.
He finished with her quickly, first her way then his. Sated, they slept. Her heartbeat, its not music, he thought, smiling. He collected his clothes quietly, taking out his wallet and watch as he pulled on his jeans. Damn, I’m late. He slipped a Benjamin and a twenty out of the old leather. He bent down to hand it to her and glanced at the small bruise on her neck. He bent and kissed it gently, licking the taste of her from his lips.
“I haven’t left a hickey since high school.” His voice woke her She smile gently, stretching the life back into her limbs. “I have to go. Here’s the usual and a little extra for a cab.”
The motorcycle roared to life, settling to an angry hum as he pushed way from the curb. He accelerated into traffic, weaving between cars moving too slow for his tastes. Minutes turned into miles, the line outside the club warning him of its proximity. He pulled around the back, stalling the engine and coasting to his spot. The door opened.
“Do you always do that? It can’t be good for the bike.”
“You pay me enough to fix it.” The joke was old, but the night couldn’t start without it.
“Zack, what’d I tell you about fighting before you come here. You don’t need a warm-up bout.”
“What are you talking about, Ken?” The bouncer glanced at his knuckles, thinking his wild driving had caught gravel and left his hands bloody.
“You must have been hit hard to bleed like that. Go look in the mirror.”
Zack dropped the stand and stepped by his boss. The employee restroom was just inside. Oh hell. His teeth were red with blood. He rubbed it off with his tongue, tasting the young prostitute one last time.
“How is it you never bruise, Zack? I’ve seen you hit with chairs, bottles...”
“I guess I’m just a tough son of a bitch.”
“You shouldn’t talk about you mother like that, boy, she’d slap that smile off your face.
“Nah, she’d slap you for picking on her little angel. Clock me in, I’m going right out front tonight.”
They walked through the narrow hall to the small stoop separating the public and private portions of the club. The stairs led to the offices and records, the waist-high door to the bar and the crimson velvet cord blocked the entrance from the floor. Ken stomped up the flight, disappearing down the short hall and returning quickly. He tossed a black bundle down the last few steps. Zack caught it and it unfurled in his hand.
“Not black again.” He wined, looking at the stupid tee he would have to wear until Ken’s ADD kicked in again and he ordered more stupid shirts.
Zack carried the shirt to the front, waiting until he was well in the view of the ladies to change. He scanned the line, smirking at the glances he received. The speakers kicked to life behind him, jolting the crowd a bit with anticipation. He would start to let them in soon. A girl leaned out, smiling familiarly at him. The opening bars of one of his favorites, the Goo Goo Dolls’ “Iris” sparked a memory when he returned her smile. I know her, but from where?
He unlocked the cords and plugged in the ID scanner- a toy Ken bought during one of his ADD fits, the bouncers all agreed- so Ken would see them still using it. It hadn’t worked in weeks, but no one wanted to spoil the novelty for the boss. He checked ID’s as people went by, smiling at the good fakes, laughing at the bad.
“Zack, Ken’s looking for you again.” Another bouncer called, stepping into the flow of club-goers to take over for Zack. He squeezed by a clump of doe-eyed girls staring at him at the door, ignoring the hand that brushed his ass. They’d learn eventually that he was all business, but until then, fun was fun.
“Zack, get over here Zack!” called the boss man. The bouncer obliged, squeezing through the throng to get to the stairs. He turned so he could watch the floor. Early didn’t always mean quiet.
“What now? You have another little toy for us to play with ‘Big Brother’ style?”
“No, no, they haven’t come in yet.” He paused, collecting his thoughts into coherent words, waiting further when they didn’t mean what he wanted to say. “How long have you worked here?”
“About four years,” he counted months in the space above his boss’s head, “Four years in august.”
“Right, and how many days do you take off.” He didn’t wait for an answer, “Only when I tell you to, right. Well, I’m telling you to again. It seems I haven’t been keeping track and I owe you a few birthday nights off.”
“That time of year again? And I was hoping to use those days this Christmas in lieu of a gift.”
“Funny, no wonder you’re a bouncer. I’m serious, man. You’re here more than me, and I socialize on my days off. Besides, I saw that cutie locking eyes with you outside. You can thank her for reminding me. Now get back out there and work for your vacation pay.”
Ken walked back upstairs to count his money, or jerk off, Zack didn’t know or care which. He lost all interest when he noticed the night’s first trouble. He weaved his way through the dancers in time to here him pleading.
“It’s just one dance, honey, that’s all.”
She was less than amused by his attentions. His insistence got angrier as her denials grew less interested. Zack didn’t catch his line, but got there in time to hear her hand slap his face. He reached out and grabbed the guy’s arm as he swung it.
“Had enough this early I think. Maybe you ought to go home.”
Not recognizing the bouncer, the man growled back, “What’s it to you, asshole.”
Zack pulled the man back, spinning him around to show him the door, and who was taking him to it. Anger flared in his eyes. The guy changed his mind about hitting the object of his affections and decided to hit the bouncer. Beer muscles must have made Zack look about eighty pounds lighter though, that’s the only way he’d be in the drunk’s weight class. Recognition distracted Zack.
He’d had trouble with this guy two nights prior, for the same reasons. He was drunk and she was uninterested. That night, Zack hadn’t caught the first punch. The drunk yelled at the girl like it was her fault he had hit her. Zack grabbed him by the head and dragged him to the door, throwing him into the street. He wasn’t supposed to be in here anymore.
The punch connected with his jaw. Zack felt his inner lip tear open on his teeth, felt the warm flow of his own blood in his mouth, no longer tasting of the hooker but the richer taste of his own kind. The second punch didn’t land. The first had been warning enough that it was coming. Zack twisted the guy’s arm up behind his back, to the threshold of fracture, but not crossing. Two other bouncers cleared a path to the door as Zack carried the man towards it. The strobe flashed on metal, but the warning wasn’t fast enough.
The man stopped flailing with his free arm and pulled a three inch knife from his pocket. The blade bit through the cotton shirt, catching and sticking as it struck the bone of Zack’s bottom rib. Rage replaced the blood in Zack’s veins. Still ten feet from the door as another bouncer reached, too late, to grab the knife hand, Zack finished pulling up on the man’s trapped arm, lifting him clear from the floor as the bone finally snapped from the torsion. The bouncer twisted at his hips and threw the knife wielding rag doll through the glass doors.
The door broke off its hinges, spider-webbing but not shattering. The limp man lay still but for the shallow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Blood tricked from his nose and lips.
Zack turned away towards the restroom, “Call an ambulance.” The way opened as he stormed through to the door. He locked it behind him before the other bouncers could follow. The knife was still in his side, staunching the flow of blood. He leaned over a toilet and yanked it out. The short jet splashed crimson as his flesh began to knit closed. He concentrated, leaving a small wound for the EMTs he expected in moments.
The pounding on the door changed, taking on a more authoritative cadence. The cops get here faster every time, Zack thought. He opened the door, leaning on it as it swung. Ken reached to catch him, thinking he would fall. The EMT, silhouetted by the ambulance’s red and white light outside, approached with an open kit. Zack kept a hand over the wound.
“It’s not deep, but it’s long. Let’s get outside so I don’t bleed all over the floor.” The EMT followed him out to the truck. A police officer was waiting for them.
“Let him stitch me up before you arrest me tonight okay, I’d rather not bleed out in a cell.”
The cop laughed, “From what they all say, I should wait until this guy’s feeding tube is removed to arrest him. How’s the side?” The EMT was finishing with a thick pad of gauze and began wrapping sterile tape around Zack’s waist. “Speaking of witnesses, here comes the damsel in distress you got whacked over. Miss, I’ll take your statement in a moment.”
“No statements officer. I won’t miss anything but my break tonight and I have the night off in two days. I don’t need the hassle of pressing charges.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, but thanks. Hope your night is less eventful than mine. And all before midnight.” He sighed, continuing his thought, three more hours before I can get home.
The officer went over to the girl, speaking for a moment. The EMT finished, recommending that Zack take the ambulance with the vegetable he’d just planted outside the club. He declined, thanking the tech for his concern and insisting he’d be alright. The tech gathered his equipment and climbed into the back of the ambulance.
The girl came closer, bathed in the red and white and blue flashing lights of the emergency vehicles. He recognized her again.
“That’s twice tonight you’ve gotten me in trouble and I can’t even place a name on your pretty face.”
“Zack Romer, you don’t recognize me? It hasn’t been all that long.” She smirked. Ken interrupted, huffing and puffing as he ran out the door.
“Zack, are you alright. I just came down.”
“Yeah, Ken, I’m fine. It’s a little scratch.” He turned and spat, sick of the stale tang of blood in his mouth. “Back where we started again, hey Kenny?” His smile was red, this time with his own blood.
“You sure you’re alright? You need a ride to the hospital? I won’t let you take your bike.” The ambulance began to pull away.
The girl chimed in, “The EMT said he was clear for the night.”
“Let me go clock back in from my break Ken. And get me a new shirt, this one’s all smelly.”
“Witty as usual, Zack. You’re done tonight. Go see a doctor. Go to sleep. I don’t care, but don’t try to work tonight. Your vacation just started. And don’t argue.”
“But.”
“And stay clear of this girl. She started your trouble from the get go. Just kidding, honey.” Ken turned back to the club to clean up the mess. A round on the house should just about settle the nerves.
Zack turned to the girl, studying her for a moment. “You and I graduated three years apart, didn’t we?”
“one, but close enough.”
“Maybe if the light wasn’t so choppy I could guess your name.”
“I’ll give you a hint: Laughter, Upside down food chain, Blank sheet.”
She smiled as the lights in the attic blazed, dimmed and blazed. Laughter, food chain and blank. What did they have in common? He found the link suddenly as she turned her head into the light and it glistened in her eyes. Biology class in his first try at tenth grade. They had passed jokes back and forth to break the monotony of lecture. Inside jokes, but those were is favorite kind. What was her name?
“I see you’ve gotten better at the whole showing up thing. Why was it so hard in high school? This bus dropped you right off at the doors.”
“Do you still prefer your middle name, Gloria, or have you embraced the inner old lady.”
“You remembered the rebuke, but do you remember the offense?”
“Of course. It was playing when I saw you in line tonight. You always hated that song, Iris.”
He stood up, embracing his old friend now that he recognized her. “You had lighter hair in school.”
“I dyed it last week. Don’t ask me why, it just occurred to me.”
“Spontaneous and random. You haven’t changed a bit.”
The police officer came out of the club and folded up his notepad. “You want a lift to the hospital?”
“No thanks. I’m going inside for a drink.”
Gloria grabbed his arm, anchoring him as he stepped to the door. His momentum twisted him around. He felt the wound spread, happy that he’d closed the mess of it himself.
“Come on, we have catching up to do.”
“Not until you get that looked at.”
“I don’t need an ER and my doc doesn’t get in until ten tomorrow. I’ll be ok, look.” He did a quick handspring, followed by a short walk on his hands, the shirt falling away from the bandage. “See all better.”
The music slammed into them as the door opened. He walked towards the bar, staring down an upset Ken. He ordered a double of 151 and a beer to chase it with.
“You still drink-”
“I’ll have what you’re drinking. After all, you picked the excitement for this evening already, you should wind it down. I’ll pick tomorrow.”
“I have work tomorrow.”
“No you don’t. Your boss gave you off for your birthday, remember. Not to mention getting gutted tonight.”
“Don’t remind me. I don’t know what I’m going to do with all my free time. I’ve seen every movie I own like twenty times.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I get to pick what we do tomorrow night.”
“Wow, taking charge. What’d the Navy do to you, Ma’am.”
“Nothing, I couldn’t get in. Apparently the navy is big on peanuts or something.”
“Sorry to hear that. What have you been doing with yourself?”
The bartender poured their drinks, healthy portions of rum and frosted bottles.
“Hold that thought, drinks are here.” He slammed the shot, relishing the warmth it brought. She choked halfway through and reached for the beer. “Wow, how do you drink that shit?”
“Quickly, it doesn’t burn as much. But what it’s really good for is running engines.”
“Let’s try something a little less flammable next round, ok?”
“Sure, gold is fine.”
They shared a few more drinks, catching up. Laughing at old jokes, smiling at memories. Ken walked over, reminding Zack that he was on a vacation and that meant he was not to come to work. But if he came as a customer he’d enjoy his perks just the same.
“Well that settles it, tomorrow night we’ll meet here. Say, eleven?” Gloria suggested.
“You know, I wanted to say this all through school but never had the nerve.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a date.”

The door closed behind him, loudly ringing in his ears. A good night had gone horribly wrong. The hooker looked clean, but looks were deceiving in that neighborhood. Whatever she had pumped into herself must have been strong. Zack usually didn’t feel the effects after feeding. He didn’t usually make a mess either. That had taken a while to clean up, slowed by whatever drug clouded his world. He fell onto his bed. It wasn’t close enough to dawn to sleep yet.
He concentrated on his heart, slowing the rhythm to stillness. He had faked a pulse for so long it came naturally to him when he was well fed. As the blood in his system slowed, stopped, he searched it for whatever traces he could find. Not THC, not cocaine, he’d learned to spot them quickly. Heroine and opiates were harder to find, but didn’t last long in the bloodstream. He hadn’t needed to hunt for them often. But this was different. His world crawled. Sights and sounds came from nothing. Acid? No, it’s too strong. Found it!
He concentrated on the poison, gathering its dilute volume together, pushing it through his veins until it passed into the thick vessels in his tongue. He sat up slowly, headed to the bathroom. He leaned over the bowl and bit down hard, opening the tip of his tongue and spilling the poison into the water. He returned to the bed, digging below the mattress for a ratty old notebook. He paged through it, smiling at the dates on each entry and memories in each line. It had been over a year since he added to his journal. Almost four since he had written of Gloria. He found a pen under the cover, tucked away.

I falter, sliding down
To darkness
As the stones fall from beneath my feet
As the foundation collapses.
I reach and claw to stay
I reach but find no purchase
A step has led me astray, to all’s end.
As my road crumbles, I lay patiently,
Watching
As each stone finds its place
Covering my grave.

He closed the cover and then his eyes, feeling the approach of the dawn. The last red of the sun, reflected around the horizon by thick storm clouds, greeted him as he opened the window. His alarm blared a moment later, set to a classic rock station.
'And I don’t want the world to see me. ‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.'
“The Dolls get better every time I hear that song. Good evening - ”
Zack zoned the announcer’s voice out, thoughts circling the song. Twice he’d heard it before an evening filled with her. Twice in two days. He couldn’t remember hearing it that much in the four years since he’d seen her last.
“- warm and dry tonight.”
Zack began humming the first lines as he punched off his alarm. I’d give up forever to touch you. What an idea.
He began to dress for work, remembering that he had the next few nights off when he saw the bloodstained shirt. He decided to keep the jeans, but picked out a black button down shirt. The clock shifted to 7:45. Three hours to get to the club. Time enough for a snack. Careful, remember last night.
She was waiting at the club. He saw her at the front, smiling as he passed around to the rear entrance. Ken opened the door, skipping the nightly joke. Zack passed into the club. The doors hadn’t opened yet except for a few VIPs and regulars. He opened the door and waved Gloria in, laughing at the angry kids in line.
“Hey asshole, let everyone in.”
“After I check your ID you can get in, kid.” That’ll shut him up.
The door closed behind them. She grabbed a table at the edge of the floor. He hit up the bar for a few drinks. The speakers whined to life and the bouncers started for the door. The club filled quickly, like any other night. Zack and Gloria drank, danced, talked, drank some more. A few gunshy kids bothered them about the other night, celebrity thrust upon the ‘heroic bouncer,’ as a local paper put it.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s still early. I’m usually here till four.”
“You’re usually at work, too.” She pouted, “And you usually don’t have me.”
His eyes widened as her pout became a smile. Her eyes asked him, Your place or mine?
“How’d you get here?”
“I took a cab. You have a better idea?”
“Out back.”
Ken reluctantly let him guide her through to the back, closing the door behind them. “She’ll carry two, even though all she’s had to drink is gas.”
“Funny. I never liked shots, if you recall, I drank my liquor in daiquiris in high school.”
“Still haven’t grown up then, have you?”
“Guess not. By the way, how am I going to ride that?” she glanced at the skirt hugging just above her knees. “Unless you’d like to have a trail?”
“Don’t worry, you can ride all ladylike. Sidesaddle, is it?”
“On a motorcycle? What am I going to hold on to?”
Zack climbed on, settling far back in the seat. He patted the leather in front of him, “Just pop on down here, I wont drop you off the sides.”
“Between your arms and the handlebars? You ok to drive tonight?”
“We didn’t have all that much. I bet you dinner we get to my place without a scratch on you.”
“Who said we were going to your place?”
“Well, I am driving.”
“Point to you, and mark it down, I don’t give in so easily often.”
“I would hope not. What would your mother think?”
She paused, “Didn’t we have this conversation a few years ago?”
“What, when your father thought we were sleeping together?”
“Well, he thought we were having sex, he knew we sleeping together. How often did I stay over your place?”
“What straightened him out?”
“I brought home my boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I remember that night. He and I were talking baseball when the two of you walked in. I acted all shocked to mess with him. What was that guys name?”
“Doesn’t matter. Didn’t last long.” She stepped over to the bike, “You sure I’ll be ok up here?”
“Yeah, the bike’s bottom heavy. It’ll be easier to turn with you up here.” Besides, I have passengers regularly.

“You still have this?”
“What?”
“The journal you thought no one knew about.” She smiled mischievously and opened the cover.
“Hey, that’s private. Close it.”
“Private, huh? It’s not like I haven’t seen it before. When’s the last time you wrote in it.” She paged to the end, careful not to pull out the few loose pages. “Still date them at the end?” The pages became blank. She turned each one now, backing towards the last inked sheet. “Yesterday?”
“Alright, give it here.” He reached for the book. She evaded his grip, holding the book behind his head, closed, wrapping him up in her arms.
“Can’t I read it? It’ wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Only the first you got permission?”
“Yeah, but penance is simpler than permission.”
“Penance, huh? So you read it already?”
“No, but I can if you want. Then I’ll have to make it up to you.”
He kissed her forehead, “Again?”
“You don’t have work tonight. I don’t have anywhere to be until. Why not?”
He glanced around. His room was a mess. The clock’s upside-down display read 4:17.
He pulled her in close, holding her tightly. He kissed her neck, “If you must.”
He heard the pages ruffle, felt her wrist turn to allow easier reading. She settled against him, shifting under him. He kissed her neck again, lingering. He felt his hunger rise; the wound and the approaching sunrise pulled at his will.
“Dark. Beautiful, but dark. You need some sunlight in your life.”
“I work at night. I haven’t seen the sun in four or five years.” God, has it been that long? Half a decade in the darkness.
“It’ll be dawn soon. We can watch the sun rise.”
He glanced at the window, remembering intently the exact direction of the sunrise. His bed was in the corner, clear of the window. The wall across from it was bare providing a screen for god’s morning projection.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much breakfast fare, I usually sleep until dinner time.”
“Then I’ll wait. I’m not hungry anyway.”
“it’s getting late. I need to get some sleep. Don’t want this to get any worse.” He patted his bandaged side. The spot of blood was larger than before they’d reached his house.
“But I’ll be gentler this time.”

He yawned, feeling the touch of the dawn as it peeked above the horizon. The wall glowed. He shifted against her side, smiling as she breathed steadily, asleep. For a moment, her heartbeat was all he heard.

He woke before she did, sitting with her in his arms. He watched her breathing, remembering the taste of her lips. He slid his arm from beneath her to see what he could cook for her. Not much, I guess we’re going out to eat. He slipped back into the bedroom, dressing quietly.
“Zack?”
“Good morning.”
“ Evening?”
“Yep. Where do you want to eat? My cupboards are bare.”
“Wherever.”
“No, tonight you get to pick.”
“Oh, alright.” She pouted. “This place have room service? I don’t want to move.”
“No, but I can go pick something up. What are you in the mood for?”
“Something light. I don’t eat a lot when I wake up.”
“Specifically?”
“How about Chinese? The staple from senior year.”
“Still the same taste?”
“You remember.”
He stepped over to the bed, bending down to kiss her. She stretched up to him, twisting lithely. She sighed as her neck cracked. He noticed the small red spot.
“I’ll be back soon.”

Only the lower lock was set when he got home. He entered the dark home to silence. He flipped the light switch, smiling. The bed was made, a small note sat on the pillowcase:

Sorry I had to leave. My mother called. Dad’s not doing well and she needed me to run an errand. Pop my chicken and broc in the fridge. I’ll stop by later. Call me if you’d rather meet anywhere. Watch the Shining for me, for the umpteenth time.
G

The Chinese food settled into the empty fridge. He sat in front of the TV, thinking, entertained by its blank expression. The notebook, reflected in the blank screen, caught his eye. He turned to reach for it, leaning back in the chair. He overbalanced as his hand touched the cover, tipping the chair over backwards. The notebook fell onto his face, opened to a new page.
Her handwriting was less rushed, care set in the ink.


You’re not the only one that dabbles:
Once………… it boiled, testing me
At what limit
Passion
Pleasure
At what limit are they gone
At what limit are they
Regret
Pain
Now cooled, will it rise again
Will the fire be set
Can it yet, or like water,
Once boiled, my blood is dead.

What took us so long?
He lifted his pen to the page in response.

She knocked lightly on the door.
“How’s your father?”
“Good, it’s downhill, but he’s not hurting as much anymore.”
“Take a cab again?”
“Why, you want to play with your bike again?” she turned to point over her shoulder. “I parked up by the corner.
The red spot on her neck was deeper, a dark bruise. He reached to her cheek, “Did I do that?”
“What?”
“Your neck?”
“I guess, I hadn’t noticed. So I get to pick tonight right?”
“Let me lock up and you can lead the way.”

“What did you think of the movie.”
“Total chick flick.”
She punched his arm, “Watch it, or I’ll find somebody else to dance with when we go to the club.”
“Yeah, you do that, but when they see me, they’ll only think once about my cutting in.”
“Ah, yes, the reputation would drive me right back to you.”
“Until my terrible dancing drives you away.”
“You weren’t all that bad. You only stepped on my feet like ten times.”
“Only ten, maybe I caused nerve damage, it was more often than that.”
“No nerves, but the booze probably numbed it a bit.”
“Maybe we should eat then, before we start drinking. That 151 hits back.”
“Sure. What are you in the mood for?”
“I thought it was your night to choose. I picked yesterday.”
“no, I picked Chinese. We didn’t eat it, but I picked it.”
“Well then, miss technicality, how about a burger joint.”
“Fast food will kill you.”
“I didn’t say fast food. I said a burger joint. The best around.”

She drove casually, ambling through traffic to the diner. She sat at the counter rather than a table or booth. She didn’t want to linger at the diner. Gloria ordered her burger rare, a surprise to Zack.
“Not charcoal tonight?”
“I don’t know, I’m in the mood for something new. I remember when you started eating them rare.”
But do you know why I eat it rare? Would you sit here with me if I ordered it raw, still mooing? “I change it up now and again.”
The food arrived, piled high with thickly cut fries and dripping cheese. They ate, his eyes never leaving her. He insisted on paying, to which she reluctantly surrendered. They made their way to the car, continuing their unhurried evening at the club. She fell asleep in his arms again, just as he felt the approaching dawn.
He woke just before sunset, watching the vestiges of sunlight crawl along the floor and up to the windowsill. Her bare leg strayed too close, a sharp sunburn from laying all day before the window outside the covers, traced its way up her calf. He shifted, reaching for the hand lotion in his bedside table drawer. He’d woken to a few similar burns, the sun’s touch scalding before it woke him. He massaged the cool cream into her cool skin.
Slowly she awoke under his touch.
“Hmmm, you have wonderful hands.”
“Sleep alright?”
“I tossed and turned all night-day, whatever. Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.”
“Cake and ice cream should be at the club, I just hoped they put the girlies in after they baked it.”
“You always this morbid when you get up? Or is it just a little pleasure saved for me?”
“I aim to please. Tonight you get to pick, except we have to go to the club. Your boss-“
“Kenny can go to hell, he gave me off tonight.”
She kissed him, “Kenny made me promise to get you there. He has a little shindig planned.”
“Fine, what time does he want us there?”
“Nine I think.”
“Nine? Cheap little prick. I bet he throws us out before he opens the place at eleven.”
“Fine by me, I get to extend our little weekend romp.”

“I told you, booze doesn’t party too well with cake and ice-cream.” He scolded as he wiped the last bit of vomit off the floor. Gloria had drank like a fish and stuffed her face, insatiably. “Let me finish here and we’ll go home. I have a surprise for you.”
Purged clean, she answered almost soberly, “But it’s your birthday, you get the surprises.”
He stood up, wrapping the filthy rags in thick plastic sheeting before putting the bundle into the trash-bags ken brought out. Ken told Zack to leave it, to take her home, but Zack wasn’t one to leave a mess he made on the shoulders of another. He took the bundle out the back, throwing it into the dumpster. He stopped at the kitchen phone for a moment, his call brief and precise. He went back into the main area to pick up Gloria. He coaxed the car keys out of her pocket and led her to the car. She fell asleep on the ride back to his place.
He carried her into his room. The bruise on her neck seemed worse for time, like the flesh gave up trying to heal before it started. He’d seen a wound like that before. He scribbled a note and left it on her chest. She stirred as he closed the bedroom door, but did not wake for almost an hour more.
‘Follow the clues to find me.’
She stared at the note, feeling less hung over than she remembered she should feel. She opened the door, glancing around for his clues. Simple arrows, drawn on post-its, lead her through the house to an open window. She looked out and around, expecting him to jump at her, instead finding a thick ledge and a short ladder with one last arrow pointing up.
Zack sat waiting for her. She took him by the arm to stand him up but he refused, pulling her down beside him after she stopped yanking on his arm. Though not his first time, he loved her as one unfamiliar. Tense and unyielding. When they needed, they rested, but he went on and on, until he was sure. He finally gave ground, rolling toward the eastern edge of the roof. He uncovered a small radio and switched it on. A moment’s static gave way to the end of a song played for the some-thousandth time in its life. The sky glowed as the announcer’s voice squashed the last chords.
“Now, by special request, waking up the sun for Zack and Gloria, the Goo Goo Dolls.”
And I don’t want the world to see me. Cause I don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am…

Zack started humming along, moved into the lyrics. He stopped, and looked into her eyes.
“I love you, always have and always will. Whatever happens, I need you to know that. But I won’t love you forever. I can’t put that on your shoulders. Please understand.”
As the music faded, the sun climbed over the horizon. Zack smiled as the light burned him away in a flash of ash, holding his lover one last time. Gloria found the notebook resting on her bare belly, re-bound with an assortment of rubber bands and tape. A single page was free, fluttering in the morning breeze.

Dawn
Each night when ink stains page
It is the end of the memoir
For no tomorrow is a promise.
Should it come…
Live today
As though there is no yesterday
Regret brings only encumbrance
Slowing. Stopping.
Even smiling at a memory takes time
Time to do, to act, to be.
Live today
As though it is the end
Tomorrow is an empty burden
Borne in hopes of its arrival
Abandoned with the dawn of today
Let each night’s kiss linger
Though not more a beauty than a lover’s morning smile
It is assured, for it is
It is not to be
In the end, it could be now
Prepare. Act.
For to ponder the wanderings of a brook will not return the drop to you

The rain may slake a thirst, or run
From sky to earth to sea
The only certainty is that nothing is certain.
Love, true now, may vary soon
Petty are its whims, though great pains does it bring when crossed
Love’s roots are not deep. Tempest
A word, glance, misstep
Tear them up and throw them down
As all short lived lives
Love must bloom, bright and fast
Leaving chance to decide if it burns away
Mirrored faces, but opposed as left and right
Rise and set
Lovers know them both
But, hope, as one and the same.
Each scarlet vision renewing, be it night or morn.

My last thought is of you, love. Smile. I know it hurts, but it’s better this way.
His signature was gone, even that little bit of his blood was erased by the sun.







Philadelphia
April 2007

‘The Fall’ April 4-11, 2007
‘Boiled Over’ October 31, 2006
‘The Dawn’ December 16, 2006