deserted

there is a solace to the solitude and
there is an aloneness that makes being alone
good and true,
rather
than
sad and
lonely.
no expectations.
no schedules.
no race to get from there
to here –
and back.
for one thing, it’s too, too hot for all
that hurrying and worrying;
for another, it’s just
the
way
things
are.
in the desert, where life can be seen
inside out,
if you are
willing to stop and look and if
you are willing to stand
the
peace and
quiet. can
you? or do you just think
you
can?

souls searching

In the shadows sits his soul,
quiet, sullen, but not
brooding. It has become
disengaged from him, though not, yet,
angrily so, because he
has
become
disengaged from it, not
estranged. He
is lost, his friends
think, without too, too much
judgment.
He is not alone. Like others, he seeks spirituality,
while, at the same time,
cowering from it. It is a
conundrum he accepts, at least for
the time
being, because he thinks
life is not a life unless it is examined
closely and at every turn, and he is trying
to understand it all. He
never will, of course,
but he knows that, too. Still, he
tries. He is slowly
approaching
equanimity. And for that, at the very least,
he
is
grateful.

he & she

Where he sees confusion, she
sees
possibility. When he
sees
indecision, she sees
choices. What he views as
discombobulation, she
christens
energy. As he wallows in
what never was, she honors what
still
might
be.
He doesn’t deserve her, but
he
does
need
her.

goodbye

Dear Molly, Nancy, Ray:
Tomorrow, when you wake up, I’ll be gone. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I need to move. I wish I could explain why, but I can’t – even to myself. It’s just something I feel. I’m suffocating, here. I can’t explain that, either, but I am. There are days when I struggle to breathe. It’s nothing to do with any of you. It’s me. It’s all me. I need to get someplace to think. Someplace where I can figure out things. Your father will take care of you. He’s a fine, fine man. I couldn’t’ve hoped for anyone better. It’s not him, either. It’s not. It’s me. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, now, and I’ve kept putting it off. But nothing changes. So, it’s time. I’ve asked your father to tell our friends that I’ve headed south to visit family, to take care of one of my sisters. I think that should buy all of us some time with this. I don’t know when I’m coming back. I love all of you more than you can imagine. Please don’t stop loving me. Mom

dance hall girls

“This isn’t going to work, you know?”
“What isn’t? Us?”
“Yes.”
“For some reason, I knew you would say that.”
“This is too peaceful, too quiet, too alone. You couldn’t handle this, long-term.”
“You think you know me that well, already?”
“It’s in your eyes. I saw it, tonight. For the first time, maybe. There’s no mistaking it. There’s a restlessness, there. Sometimes it looks like a twinkle, a sparkle, but that’s only camouflage. It’s an anxiousness. The next place. The next story. The next challenge. The next woman.”
“I’m not used to being such a open book.”
“Some people are better readers than others.”
“Do you read mirrors, too?”
“I do.”
“What do you see there?”
“Someone looking back who is intoxicated by itinerant cowboys, but really wants the owner of the local general store.”
“I think it’s that way for a lot of dance hall girls.”
“Might be. Could be. Is, I guess. But that doesn’t change anything.”

such certainty

“I see the way you look at her, you know.’
“And how’s that?”
“As though you’re trying to see her naked.”
“So, I’m a lecher, now? Is that it?”
“Not that way. You know what I mean.”
“Perhaps, but I think I’d rather not.”
“But you do, and, you see, that’s the key.”
“The key to what?”
“To this. To us. You want to see what she’s thinking. Perhaps if she’s at all thinking of you.”
“You’re not making any of this up?”
“None. I know. I watch. I see.”
“You always did that.”
“You never left me a choice.”
“Which leaves us where?”
“I think that’s a question for you to answer, no? None of this sophomoric masquerading has made me jealous, yet. In fact, I think it’s rather entertaining, in a sad, depressing, embarrassing way.”
“It might be easier if you were incensed.”
“It isn’t supposed to be easy. Least of all for you.”
“Might it be that you’re all wrong – about everything?”
“No.”
“Such certainty you enjoy.”
“Yes. I do.”

here

Big cars. Bigger trucks. South Texas. Space to drive. Oil that drives it. Slow-moving. Not styling. Just no real hurry. “Where’re you going?” "There.” Everything is either close or far. No in-between. San Antonio – 4 hours. Austin – 6. Houston – 7. Dallas – a day. Otherwise: space. Most of it low-lying. Big sky. Not the biggest, but big. Black nights salted with stars. A separate piece of the U.S. A separate peace, here. For now, anyway.