Judy's Ghost

When we said we were going to do it we were only kidding. It was supposed to be the kind of joke that couples make.

It wouldn't be funny to anyone else but us and it was. Whenever we talked about doing it we would laugh hard and share that special smile that we saved for each other..

We were going to visit Judy and have sex on her porch or maybe inside her apartment. Can't remember who came up with the idea and why, but we did. And like I said I can't tell you why it was funny nor does it really matter.

It was just something we said we were going to do but it became more than that. It was sort of a catchphrase for doing something ridiculous and silly.

When Judy got sick I told Anne that we ought to think twice about whether doing it would be a way to honor Judy or if it would be disrespectful.

We both knew that wasn't really what we were talking about, but it was just how we dealt with something hard and difficult to talk about.

"It is not like Judy's ghost is going to come haunt or walk in on us."

I laughed and told her that I loved her so much that if I died before she did I would come back to visit her.

"Daniel, that is not funny. I don't know what I would do if you died."

I took her hand and kissed her cheek.

"Anne, you will go live your life and be happy. You will find someone new and move on. Sometimes you will think about me and wonder what could have been, but if you are smart you won't spend your days looking back."

She started to respond and I kissed her so she would stop worrying about it. I don't think that I made her forget, but I distracted her.

Later that night I watched as she slept and promised her that as long as I lived I would do what I could to make her happy and protect her from whatever came, including Judy's ghost.

And then came the day that

You Were Always There

Dear June,

Someone once told me that a woman never wants a weak man and that the last thing I should do is tell you that it hurts not to have you around.

They said I should pretend like you didn't exist and ignore you. They said that if I ignored you it would lead to the whole absence makes the heart grow fonder thing. They said that you would come looking for me and that I should be mean to you because women like men who are mean.

Well, I am a mean man and I mean that in more than one way. I am not always the nice guy. I am a jerk who has been his own biggest enemy. Don't have to look any farther than the closest mirror to see the truth of that.

But that doesn't mean that I am only a jerk or that I haven't got any good qualities because I have plenty. It is not egotistical for me to say that I know I touched you on a deeper level than any other man has. That is simple truth.

And the same goes in reverse. You found the real me and you saw what I never let anyone see.

For a while we were two souls in sync and complete. You were my air and I was yours.

Maybe I look backwards to punish myself. Maybe I blame myself for how things are now. And maybe I don't. Maybe I hold you accountable too because no relationship happens in a vacuum.

And maybe what is more important is to let the past rest. You have one and I have one. Does it matter who did what, when or how.

Well it does to a point but I am not convinced that it has to be the final arbiter of what will be. Because what we found is rare, special and unique. I am not convinced that such a thing can truly be lost or that it ever dies.

I can't tell you why I feel like this other than it is in my heart. The same heart that you stole beats hard and long. And dammit, it tells me when you are out there thinking about me.

Because you do and it is not in the I hope he is well mode that you tell yourself it is. I call bullshit. I say that you are lying to yourself about that. I say that if you pull out one of your famous lists you'll find me there.

You were always there, even when I didn't know your name, you were always there. Part of the reason we worked so well was because we broke all of the rules.

We stripped away all of the pretense and let naked souls speak. We screamed at each other because we had complete faith that we could do so and we did.

And when we did we always made up. It wasn't the kind of stormy dysfunctional relationship that you see on a soap opera. It was real. It was honest. It was authentic.

The biggest challenge we had was bad timing. Life happened to us and we got lost. When we got lost we let our fear guide us and love took a back seat.

I am always happy to be in a back seat with you but not like that.

Those people who tell me to be mean to you don't get it. They are right about a few things. You won't admit it but you hate when I ignore you. You wonder if that means that I have finally let go. Sometimes you wish that I would because it would make it easier.

But you feel comfort in the connection even if it isn't what it once was. It is not daily and direct but we still touch each other in that place.

And you know that if you needed me I would cross the ocean to be by your side again. You know that I would fight the monsters, slay the dragon and rebuild our castle.

There isn't enough uncertainty about that to make you feel otherwise and that is ok with me.

I do things differently. I take the road not taken and I walk where there is no path. Sometimes that bites me in the ass but it is the only way that I know how to live.

Don't have time or the right words to say more at this moment. Hell, I don't even know if these words are working properly. All I know is that we know more about true intimacy than most and I miss that.

I miss that trust. I miss the girl who helped me remember that life is love and that the fire doesn't have to burn you.

Can't keep this side open for long or it will wreck my reputation. So remember that I love you. Remember when I pull your pigtails and take your cookies that I have always loved you.

Probably always will...


Hah, don't tell me that you read "probably" three times and wonder why I qualified it. Hee hee, got to make you squirm a little bit now don't I. ;)

I Am A Lonely Man

Outside the sky is blue and covered in flecks of white dots that double as clouds. Cumulus nimbus is what my junior high school teacher called them, at least I think that is what he said. Can't say that I remember all that well, or maybe the problem is that I remember far too well. I remember the days when I fit in and felt like a part of society.

I know, it sounds screwy. If you know me you'd never have a clue that I am a lonely man. You wouldn't guess that my days feel like they have no meaning at all. I am a good actor. That smile I paste across my face and the silly banter are all part of my disguise. A shield that I use to keep people from seeing that the man is nothing more than shell of a person.

I know, you're thinking that it sounds tired, a cliche and somewhat pathetic to say these things. It is hard for me to write them and even harder for me to accept that the boy who showed so much promise grew into the man who has yet to fulfill one of his dreams. Not one single dream, not one.

My friend Mike says that the reason that I haven't managed to fulfill one single dream is that they aren't ordinary dreams. They aren't the type of thing that you can just do. He says that I should take it easy on myself because dream fulfillment doesn't take place over night. He says that it is better this way because if I fly too close to the sun than I'll really earn the name Icarus.

I tell him that I need to do better, that I can't wait for Godot to show up and help me. He just laughs and tells me that I am being too hard on myself and that if I would just ease up I'd be happier.

Maybe he is right.

The thing is that when I look around all I see are people who look happier than me. All around me are couples holding hands, looking dreamily into each other's eyes. All around me are people who walk confidently into wherever it is they are going. Surely they don't feel like I do. They couldn't possibly exude that much confidence without feeling it.

Mike says that I am crazy. Mike says that some of those people are hiding behind their smiles, just like I do. I tell Mike that I feel like one of those sneetches that didn't get the star. I feel like the kid who missed hearing the teacher's instructions. Everyone else knows how to play the game of life and I don't.

Every now and then Mike makes sense to me so I try to do as he says. I take his words to heart and try to apply them. I look around my office and imagine that they are all scared and lonely too. It works for a while and then I start to get nervous.

I start wondering if maybe Mike isn't confused. I start thinking that maybe Mike isn't so smart and that maybe he is the one that needs to be set straight. And every now and then I find myself in a heated argument with Mike because sometimes he needs to be confronted about these things. I may feel like I am lost. I may feel like I am the only one who doesn't get it, but even I know a thing or two.

I may hide behind my smile, but it doesn't mean that I haven't learned something. And then in the middle of my righteous indignation I remember that Mike really isn't such a good role model. He really doesn't know any more than I do.

And most importantly I remember that the reason I have never introduced my mother to Mike is because if she saw me introduce her to the guy in the mirror she'd think that I was making a joke and she might laugh. And if she laughed that would hurt Mike's feelings. He might not know so much, but he is still a person and you shouldn't intentionally hurt a person's feelings.

*****

Sometimes I forget when and where I met Mike. I don't know if it really matters because Mike is the best and truest friend I got. He is the only one who never leaves me and the only one who listens to all I got to say.

And believe me, I got a lot.

There used to be others. There used to be them that got my best interest in mind and those that claimed they did. I don't remember all of their names because when you live the hard scrabble life you start to unlearn that which you once knew.

You can't carry all them hopes and dreams you once had because they aren't real. The streets are real, oh yeah, they are real. If you ain't real you don't make it for very long on the streets.

That is part of why I like Mike and why I need him. He keeps me focused. He doesn't let me feel bad about what happened because it wasn't my fault.

We were walking down Michigan Avenue. It was bright and sunny. She was holding my hand and she never let go. Even after that car jumped the curb and pinned her against the building she never stopped holding my hand.

I tried to pull it off of her. Tried to push it. Did everything that I could do but it didn't matter, cuz she died anyway.

I couldn't save her. Couldn't hold her and make her feel better or stop the pain. Don't know why it hit her and not me. I was so much bigger. Why didn't it hit me. Why did they have to take her. Why not me. She was better than I was and so much better than I am now.

She told me to stop screaming. Said that I should calm down, even as the life was running out of her and heading somewhere else she was taking care of me.

I should have protected her better. I should have seen it coming. I should have heard it. Could have done something more, I know I could have.

*****


Mike tells me that I should finish letting go and just forget. He says that there ain't no point in thinking about her or remembering 'cuz it only hurts us.


Mike says that it is good that I hit the driver 'cuz he was drunk and it is his fault that we are what we are today. He says that I should be proud that it took so many people to pull me off of that guy. He says that it is good that I crippled that guy because I am crippled now.


But sometimes I don't like it when he says it because she wouldn't have wanted it. She would have told me it was an accident and that I should let go. But that is the thing, I did let go. That accident forced me to let go.


I ain't who I was and haven't been for years. Now I am just a shadow who walks the streets. Mostly I keep to myself, but sometimes people mess with me. usually I growl at them and they run away but sometimes the stupid and mean ones do more.


That is ok with me. I like stupid and mean because when I am angry I fight. And when I fight I forget about being so damn lonely.

The Not So Silent Scream

 "If you want to be a great writer you need to be able to live and relive your pain. You have to touch it, feel it and roll around in it. That isn't hyperbole, it is just how it works." 

I wrote those words and I believe wholeheartedly in them. Some of the best writing I have come up with has been when I have found a way to tap into the soft places that still retain the memories of failure and pain that hasn't ever dissipated.

Or maybe it has. Maybe the pain has gone but somehow I have found a way to go back in time and relive things that tore me up. Maybe they still do. Maybe it is because I feel like I found the person who completes me in every way and then I lost her.

Maybe it is because I feel like we were given something magical, majestic and mysterious and then it was taken away. A thief came in the night and stole it and when he did he took my heart along with it. Maybe that thief meant to wreak havoc upon my soul. Maybe the purpose was to create chaos and devastation.

Well, he did it. He tore me up something fierce and that fragile male ego I carry around hasn't been able to accept it. I didn't ask for this. You came when I wasn't looking and you showed me that I hadn't been living. I had only been pretending.

And I wasn't even aware of it. I was walking through life half asleep and then you found me. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that we found each other.

Today I stand here screaming at the heavens because the fucking universe isn't being straight with me. I don't know what kind of lesson this is supposed to teach me, because there is supposed to be some sort of lesson here right.

Be direct. Tell me what it is. Tell me what I did in a past life that was wrong or what I did in this one that provided me with the pleasure of this experience.

I try not to compare my situation to others because we all have our challenges. Well it is hard not to look around and ask who decided that it would be a good idea to take a barbed pole and shove it so far up my rear it bruised my tonsils.

Tell me why I am supposed to be the one who walks around spitting blood and feeding upon fire. That jackass I saw earlier isn't struggling to make ends meet. He has ridiculous amounts of money flowing through his fingers all because he was born into it.

WTF is that about.

I know, they say that G-d doesn't give you more than you can handle but just because you I walk through hell covered in gasoline is no reason to make me do it.

I keep looking at these words and wondering what I am doing with them. They barely make sense and have little to no feel or flow to them. And that makes me angry too.

Mostly I am angry because I know that she is out there and that she needs me. I know this because I feel it. And every time I write that down or say it out loud I look at myself and think that I sound like some weepy teenage boy.

I am not that guy. Maybe I once was but I am not him. So I keep going and I have these moments where it feels like people are screaming inside my head to call her and tell her to stop acting like a fool. They keep telling me that she is desperate to lean on me and to share her pain, ease her soul.

And it kills me because I know that she was never closer with any one else. I know that if she let down her guard she would let it all out and she would be safe in my arms because I was her hero and I would be again if she would only let me.

But the hero is so very angry that lightning shoots from his eyes and fire from his fingertips. He who is afraid of almost nothing is afraid she will reject him...again.

So he stands on the beach and watches the waves roll in. He swims out past the breakers and rides the waves back in. He stands alone and apart because that is safe. She doesn't want weakness but he is not weak. No one who dances in the fire like this is weak.

Mostly he is confused and unsure. Still the voices inside his head keep screaming at him to rescue her but he wonders if maybe that isn't just what he wants to hear.

Chaos and confusion work together in a confluence of cacophonous creation. It is a convoluted way of saying he doesn't know what the fuck to do so he hopes that by focusing on his own crap some things will become more clear.

Or maybe he'll just suffer from paralysis of analysis. Ah, sometimes life can be so bittersweet.

Learning to Fly

I am throwing myself into the fire and doing what I do best...dancing. I don't know how to do this any other way. Can't be anyone but me and that is ok with me because I like me.

Doesn't mean that I haven't been him but I have been more restrained. I haven't let the man inside that keeps running the iron cup across the bars go free. Haven't let the demons free to run alongside him and the wolves.

That crazy guy inside who is filled with battle lust really  isn't crazy. He knows what he is doing and he just does it. Much of it is based upon instinct and split decisions that aren't weighed and measured a thousand different ways.

He is much more of a force of nature and exerts the kind of presence that you can't help but notice but the thing is that he doesn't care. And it is because he doesn't care that he is considered to be so magnetic by so many. He is me without care and without restriction.

And he is the driving force that pushes me towards you. He doesn't fear the flames of passion or worry about the consequences of what happens if you don't respond. Ask him about it and he'll tell you to shut up and stop worrying. Push him and he'll say that he doesn't worry about things that haven't happened or that are too hard to predict.

He swears that you feel it all and that your piece of the puzzle draws you closer just as ours does. He says that only a fool plays to lose and that is what he accuses me of doing.

I grab him by the collar and shake him. I tell him not to fuck with me because he is me and I am him which is a convoluted way of saying that I am as smart/mean/crazy. He takes my hands off of his collar and answers me in a quiet and measured voice.

"You can't predict what a woman will do or what she will say because she doesn't know it either." I tell him that he is pushing tin can philosophy to the wrong guy and he asks me if I can live with myself without trying to get another shot.

"Who says that I am not trying to. But I can't make her love me if she won't."

He chuckles, closes his eyes and points to the sky. The moon is full and there are a million stars in the sky. "She is outside staring at the sky thinking about you. She won't admit it. She won't tell you that she keeps you in a place inside her heart that no one else has ever seen, but the fact is that she does. And that is why you need to have faith. Give her a reason to love you again and she will you give you more than you ever got before."

I can't help but smile at that because it makes sense and I know it is true. She wants me to give her a reason to let her heart open wide to me again. She has been fighting it because she can't see how to make it work and that is why she has been so cold.

Damn, if this isn't the craziest puzzle I have ever encountered. She is smarter than I am and far more clever, but I still know how to make her smile. And more importantly I know how to take care of her and make her feel warm, safe, loved and appreciated.

And that is part of it, if not all of it. If I can convince her to step into my arms the world will take care of the rest.

The crazy man smiles at me, claps me on the back and starts running. I join him step for step and when we head over the cliff I smile because I know that we are going to learn how to fly on the way down because that is just what will happen.

Fragments To Be Used For Fiction

“And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.”  Where The Wild Things Are

In the quiet of the evening I send my soul searching for yours and ask that it remind you of how two hearts stopped time. My eyes are shut but my heart is open and all I can do is hope that this time you will let yourself hear what your heart is saying.

This wish of mine stems from the dream we once shared. It is powered by both lust and love, heart and hope. It is a moment in time that remains framed in memory and formed from the fabric of the truth that we wish was and not the fiction of what wasn't.

Lost in a wilderness of wishes and wants I wander alone and uncertain wondering if the north star that once guided my heart can be lit again. Will you ignore my entreaty and defy that which we both knew to be true. That which once was can be again but this time bolder, richer, fuller and more rewarding.

There is a price to be paid for all that we wish, all that we seek and all that we hope and if you would but give me your hand I would pay it without question.

These dreams I dream and these visions I see demand a real response. I cannot extinguish the fire that we set nor quench the thirst that your absence has created.

And so I find myself still dancing in the fire.I burn and I ache....alone and apart.

Hand outstretched, sweat pouring down my brow I reach for you. I hold faith that our fortune was not fiction and trust that which was still is.

I cannot ignore this feeling nor pretend it doesn't exist. I cannot, will not and shall not. I would rather fail and fall than fall and fail.

You Should Know

"Come let me love you,
let me give my life to you
let me drown in your laughter,
let me die in your arms
let me lay down beside you,
let me always be with you
come let me love you,
come love me again."

Annie's Song- John Denver

I don't have to tell you these things because you know them. I don't have to tell you these things for any other reason than you should know. You should hear out loud what your heart has forgotten and what time and circumstance have interrupted.

Yes, interrupted because you know as I do I that some things cannot be broken. Things may happen and events may suggest otherwise but the heart knows what the head refuses to accept. Logic and reason are not applicable here in the traditional sense of the words.


And to try to apply them is folly. To suggest that fate relies upon fact is indeed the biggest science fiction of them all.

There are moments and memories of moments that we cannot ignore. You should know that you are not the only one to fight these battles or feel these frustrations.

And if you would let yourself be freed from the shackles that you have affixed around your head and heart you would open your eyes and see mine staring back at yours. If you would take my hand and trust your heart we would do what we have always known we could.

It doesn't have to be a Whiskey Lullaby. The middle and the end of this story remain unwritten.

Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
Of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand
 And when I awoke
And felt you warm and near
I kissed your honey hair
With my grateful tears
Oh I love you, girl
Oh I love you”
 For Emily Whenever I May Find Her- Simon and Garfunkel

Heart and Head

"All the promises we break

From the cradle to the grave

When all I want is you

You...all I want is...

You...all I want is...

You...all I want is...

You..."

All I Want Is You- U2

Ten thousand years a boy asked a girl if she would take his hand and let him love her. Ten thousand years ago he kissed her once and wondered how he had ever said I love you to any one else.

He wondered because he had never felt so much love for anyone else. Not for his first love or any other. This was a feeling like no other he had experienced. That scared the boy more than he could articulate, describe or understand.

The girl in the story had no such troubles. She knew what she felt and knew what she wanted. She didn't need to process or sort through her feelings. Sometimes it frustrated her to see the boy she said was the love of her life be so close and yet so far away.

But she knew that sometimes boys needed more time than girls and she was willing to wait. It was just a matter of time before he realized that no one else could take care of him the way that she could.

That didn't mean that he didn't make her crazy because he did. He was a master at annoying her and he knew it. Normally that would have been the kiss of death for him except she couldn't stay angry at him. It was uncanny how easily he charmed her.

He knew how to press all of her buttons and he knew how to make her feel simply....wonderful. It was infuriating not to be able to stay angry with him.\

But how can you stay angry with someone who knows how to open your heart with a word and whose presence soothes your soul. You cannot and you don't.

At least that is what you think and what you feel- but sometimes things happen.

"If I could

Baby I'd give you my world

Open up

Everything's waiting for you

You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day

You can go your own way

go your own way"

Go Your Own Way- Fleetwood Mac

They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty but whether that is true or not remains in the eyes of the beholder. Really it all comes back to perspective and the man who had been the boy readily admitted that he didn't have as much of that as he wished.

The girl and the boy who had loved each other with passion and promises never to let go had moved on and let go of that which had kept them together. The faith they held in each other had been tested and they had failed the test.

When push came to pull and pull came to shove they had fallen. Fingers that had been intertwined and hands that had been held were no more.

Time passed and the man wondered and wandered where it was he would bereft of the rock that had kept him centered. Slowly he crafted a witches brew of sadness, frustration and anger not recognizing that every drink was a poison that hurt his spirit and harmed his soul.

She was gone and though he had chased after her she had refused to listen. His heart told him that she wasn't really gone and that her silence was her defense. It argued against letting go and told him to give it time.

But his head called his heart a fool and named him weak and worthless. It deemed him a dupe, a chump and a silly knave who needed to get his priorities straight.

Time passed and the war between heart and head continued. Heart swore that some nights under cover of darkness she would come looking for him. It said that if he closed his eyes and held still he would see her come looking for him.

Head laughed at this but heart cursed and swore again that it was true. "She loves us still. Remember she told us that she would never be the first to say I love you. This is the same. She is waiting for us to contact her."

Head laughed again and told heart that he was a bigger fool than he thought.

Later on in the quiet of the evening as the lights went out and the world went dark heart and head heard soft singing. As they drifted off to sleep head conceded that maybe there was something more to what heart said, but when daylight came head pretended that he had never admitted that perhaps heart was right.

Rocket Man

"She packed my bags last night pre-flight
Zero hour nine a.m.
And I’m gonna be high as a kite by then
I miss the earth so much I miss my wife
It’s lonely out in space
On such a timeless flight"
Rocket Man- Elton John

Those words used to have more meaning and more resonance than they do today. Used to listen, close my eyes and remember the quiet Sunday mornings of days long since past. Breakfasts, lunches and dinners where we did nothing but stop time and share the moments.

Not much that you can do in space than live those memories. When you are hurtling around the cosmos at the speed of light you don't have the option to stop and turn around. Can't find a friendly gas station attendant to give you directions back home. They don't have florists that provide you with an armful of flowers that you can personally deliver.

It is much harder to present that personal touch when you are so far away even the math geniuses don't really understand it. You can write the most beautiful, heartfelt letter ever but it doesn't carry the same punch as the look on your face.


"And I think it’s gonna be a long long time
Till touch down brings me round again to find
I’m not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I’m a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone"

Sometimes you think about how far you have come and you smile because you are that much closer to where you are going. That wistful smile that washes across your face is the reminder of the pride and satisfaction you take in your job and your journey.

Life isn't quite what you want it to be but you know that you are making progress. Every day it comes one step closer. And you think that maybe this is what it means to have faith. You think that maybe it is all about believing that each step has meaning and that one day you'll reach a place where you won't feel so much regret.

It is something that you actively work on. There is no place for regret in life. You know this and you have lived it....before. Now you need to learn how to live it again. Now you need to remember that sometimes heroes fail and that failure doesn't have to be forever.

Yet you feel that tug from down below and you remember that some losses aren't easily forgotten. Those pictures keep appearing because something or someone is trying to tell you that this one thing is so significant you cannot walk away from it. You cannot ignore it.


"Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact it’s cold as hell
And there’s no one there to raise them if you did
And all this science I don’t understand
It’s just my job five days a week
A rocket man, a rocket man"

Men are taught to hide that softer side. Told to be hard and to be strong. To be otherwise is to be less and no matter how much new age crap you read you can't figure out how less is more. Or maybe you can. Maybe you can come to accept that this is the path you are on and if you keep pushing you can influence it in more than a small way. Maybe if you keep walking you'll find that trail again.

Faith. It all comes back to faith. Faith in yourself and your convictions. Trust your instinct and your abilities. Believe. Live and learn how to love again.

"And I think it’s gonna be a long long time... "

Punching At The Wind

A new insertion for Fragments of Fiction

Have you ever seen a one-armed man punching at nothing but the breeze?

Johnny stood in the doorway and looked out at the cars driving by on the street and remembered days long gone by when he would jump in the Camaro and just drive.

He closed his eyes and remembered....Remembered what it was like to open the window and hit the freeway destination unknown. Remembered what it was like when he had nothing but freedom to do as he wished and countless hours within which to do it.

Those were days to remember. That car may not have been alive but it might as well have been a dog or a horse. It was a big part of him and it shared more than a few adventures. If those wheels could speak they would told a colorful tale or two.

They might have mentioned quiet moments in the mountains or sunsets painted across a bright blue sky and set against the sea. They might have spoken of the persons who spent time in those places and shared their thoughts about how they impacted and influenced the life of that driver.

And though there had been more than a few there was still only one who mattered more than the others. Just one whose memory had never left and whose name was never far from his lips. She had turned his life inside out and upside down.

They had sworn a blood vow to never let go of each other and had done the things that they could to ensure that it would last.

But that was then and this is now.

+++++

Life is nothing but a series of moments in time set against the backdrop of the people who share them. It was a lesson that Johnny had learned all too well. There had been moments of triumph and moments of tragedy. He had tales of sorrow, had gained and garnered more than a few scars.

That is what happens when you live and love. Sometimes you come out of these moments feeling like you are a one armed boxer punching at the breeze and sometimes you come out carrying the grand prize. The trick and the challenge lies in recognizing those moments for what they are.

They say that those who do it well find life to be easier and more enjoyable, or so it was said. Johnny didn't necessarily buy into it wholeheartedly. He tended to believe that in order to enjoy and appreciate the sweetness of life you had to experience some of the other side.

Not to mention that even if you recognize the moments you still have to be willing, ready and able to take advantage of the moment. And that was one thing that tied all people together- missed opportunity.

+++++

It was something that he knew about and had experienced. It happened back in that past life he used to live. Back when he and June had shared their hearts and lived a life together.

They had missed their window or at least that was the explanation she gave for leaving him. Well, it was one of them. She had thrown out a bunch of other reasons and excuses for why they couldn't be. With the perspective of time it was possible for Johnny to see more clearly how things had unfolded and to recognize how close they had come to overcoming the consequences of their confusion.

One step to the left and a jump to the right would have helped them to avoid a few of those land mines and had they done that the harsh words they exchanged might not have been uttered. But that hadn't happened and instead they had gone down that same rocky path that so many other couples walked upon.

Battered and bruised they turned away from each other. Stopped talking and ceased communicating. Two people who used to hate not being in touch learned how to be alone and apart.

+++++

It was the picture of June in the blue dress that changed things for Johnny. He came across it unexpectedly and was surprised by the reaction it caused in him. She was simply stunning and it took great effort on his part not to pick up the telephone to try and call her.

The pain of the disconnect and the distance came rushing back. For a moment he let himself bathe in it. He looked at her picture, remembered what it was like to kiss her and got lost in memory. What had once seemed impossible had happened.

All these years later he could hear June tell him to promise to find her no matter what happened. Remembered laughing at her and asking what he should say if she wouldn't talk to him. She told him to remember that she would be mean. Said that he should ignore that and remember that she wasn't being a bitch because she didn't love him but because she did.

He said that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard and she told him to shut up and listen. "Shut up and listen" had turned into a joke for them with deep meaning behind it. If ever they had a fight it was something that one or both of them said.

+++++

Johnny stared at the picture and said the words out loud "Shut up and listen." As expected there was no response. So he took a deep breath and told himself that it was time to return to reality. June was living her life and he was living his.

Later that night as he went to sleep he swore that he heard her say "Shut up and listen" and then promptly dreamed about the reunion that they always knew would take place.

When he woke up in the morning he didn't remember the dream but in the back of his mind he still felt her touch and wondered if somewhere she could feel his.

Transitions and Delusions

"And then I run 'til the breath tears my throat
'Til the pain hits my side
As if I run fast enough
I can leave all the pain and the sadness behind"
Rain In The Summertime- The Alarm

It was a time of transitions and delusions. A time of choice and a time of chance. It was like old Mr. Dickens had termed the best of times and the worst of times, or so Johnny thought.

The summer had been filled with some of the best moments he had ever had and the worst. It had been a roller coaster ride of epic proportions and he was exhausted by it.

Too many ups and downs and not enough time on the old straight and narrow had taken a severe toll on him. He didn't have to look in the mirror to see it. All he had to do was put on a shirt or a pair of pants and the impact was obvious.

She was out there somewhere in the ether and he was...elsewhere. Most of the time he was fine and life was good but there were those other moments. Moments where he imagined that he was like Rick in Casablanca and that one day his Ilsa would find her way into his gin joint.

So much had happened and so much time had passed he wasn't sure what to make of it. Sometimes he very much wanted it to happen and sometimes he didn't. Maybe it was because she had always been able to rattle his cage like no other.

That was disconcerting, the cage rattling. Usually he was the one who did it and not the reverse. It reminded me him of a discussion from long ago in which he busted her. He told her that he knew that she thought that she was in control of her relationships. Explained how he knew that she made a point of making her men think that they were running things when it was really her.

She gasped and sputtered something about it not being true and he laughed. Told her that he didn't care and didn't worry about it because they really did have a partnership. They complemented each other in a million different ways- it didn't matter who did or said what as long as they did it together.

But that was then and this is now. So he found himself filled with the sort of doubt and wonder that you'd rather not feel.

His heart hadn't let go even though his head said that he was a fool. But the truth was that he wanted time alone with her. He wanted to kiss her one more time and see what happened. He wanted to look in her the eye and see her reaction in person.

Because he simply didn't believe what she had been saying. He didn't believe that she really meant it. Those were words she used to protect herself. She would want a plan and wouldn't open her heart up completely without it.

And so to be extra safe she hid her heart from his and left him to wonder if he really did suffer from delusions or if maybe there was something more. It was always possible that she didn't know the answers to those questions either.

Time would tell.

Are They Echoes Of The Past Or Harbingers Of The Future

Johnny tilted his head back, took a sip of beer and stared out at the ocean.  It had been months since he had last spoken to June and he was beginning to wonder if the past was nothing more than a dream he had once had.

The time he had any sort of interaction with June she had called him delusional and insinuated that she had long since moved on. Johnny told her that he didn't believe her and made a point to not contact her. It wasn't because of insecurity or fear that he didn't reach out because he really didn't believe that she had moved on.

There were too many things that contradicted that. He didn't think that she had changed her basic character and knew that in the past she would have said something like that just to try and make him keep his distance. It is always easy to say goodbye when you are angry and if he knew June she had a list of things that he had done to piss her off.

It wasn't hard to imagine her carrying that list around with her, ready to whip out any time her feelings softened. At least he suspected that something like that was going on, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just his dream and just his fantasy that kept it alive.

He wasn't sure. Much had happened and time had passed. Where once it hurt them both not to speak several times a day- now it didn't. Maybe they had grown accustomed to not speaking or maybe they were just numb- he really didn't know.

So he stared out at the waves and let his thoughts wander where they may. The beer was cold and the waves were wet- these were constants that he could rely upon. But beyond that it felt like everything else in his life was in flux.

There were consistent reminders of her all around him. It was more than just a palpable absence that he felt. Birthdays and anniversaries came and went but the silence continued. Sometimes he wondered if these little hints were echoes of the past or harbingers of the future.

He took a last sip of his beer and thought about how actions lead to habit and wondered if that was what the silence had become, a familiar habit. It was an interesting question and a reasonable doubt but not enough to prompt immediate action.

So he made a promise to himself to give more thought to it, stood up, stretched and got ready to walk back into his room. He may not have answered any questions but he did gain some clarity and that was worth quite a bit.

Two Souls

She is out there, my other half. Can't say what she is doing or who she is doing it with but I know that she is out there.
Her physical absence is palpable and impossible not to notice. Sometimes I turn and expect to see her standing there with that look I know so well. Sometimes I turn and wonder why those dark eyes aren't looking back at me.

I pick up the telephone and expect it to ring like it always did before. I dial the numbers and laugh because I know that she is going to say that she was about to call me. I hear the smile in her voice, except I don't do it. I don't dial.

Instead I hold the phone and close my eyes. I hold the phone, close my eyes and feel the hole and the emptiness. I  hold the phone, close my eyes and wonder if that chasm is one sided and then I feel this twinge.

I feel this twinge and a silent bell rings inside my head and I know that she is thinking about me and us. I hear the bell and I know that somewhere she feels what I feel and that this is how and what it is for now.

Necessary. Lonely. Hard. Long. Rough. Required.

I close my eyes and try to center myself. I close my eyes and try to turn off the noise and focus on what is. And then just when I feel like I am truly alone I feel something touching me in a place that fingers can't reach and arms can't hold.

I close my eyes and I try to run from it. It is more intimate this touch and the feeling scares me a little. It is the place that only one has been and then I realize that the visitor is the same one who was there before.

Slowly I relax and realize that two souls have shed their bonds and found each other again. They always find each other. And for a brief moment I am completely relaxed and lost in a place that I cannot describe. Reality will intrude and I'll convince myself that I have seen/felt what I wanted to.

But later in the silence of the night I'll accept that two souls have done what the bodies and minds can't. And for a moment I'll let myself wonder if can't refers to now or forever.

She is out there and so am I.

I Can't Play The Guitar

There is a long list of things that I can't do. I can't play the guitar nor can I sing. I can't play the piano or use a paintbrush to cover a canvas in colors that you can relate to. And apparently I can't reach your heart. Can't get you to take my call or tell me what it is that you really feel.

I see you talking to people. See you interacting with people you say you don't respect. See you act in ways that can only be described as illogical and irrational. It used to make me really angry to see it. I'd wonder when you had taken leave of your senses or if perhaps you had done nothing but lie to me. Sometimes it was hard not to listen the whispers of insecurity and wonder who had taken you from me. It was hard not to wonder if some junky had gotten your attention or if that was just the foolish mumblings of a broken heart.

A thousand years ago you pulled me out of the hole that I had been living in and reminded me what it meant to love and be loved. You reminded me that the life I want to live is filled with hope, fire and passion. And when I climbed out and saw what had become of me I was ashamed of myself. When you looked in my eyes you saw what no one else could see and I remembered who I was and who I could be.

It was hard to be naked in front of you. I am not talking about physical nakedness but emotional. It was hard to let someone see who I really am. It scared me so very much because it felt so right. It frightened me because it felt so natural that I questioned myself.

Gradually I came to realize that it was ok and I grew comfortable with allowing you to wander unaccompanied and unencumbered through the halls of my heart. There was so much joy and love it did nothing but warm my soul. In spite of it all the echoes of the past were still close enough for me to hear their passing. I remembered what had once been and periodically looked backwards, fearing to be caught unaware.

It wasn't a matter of not being strong enough to face my demons. They could set upon me at any time and I would deal with it. I would handle them and whatever else. I wasn't built to be like Baryshnikov, though I might try to. These big hands that you used to stare at can do more than caress. They are capable of pulling things or people apart. The mind that sits behind the brooding eyes is always active, probably far too active for my own good. But it is always working, thinking about things. That intensity never goes away. At best I can turn it off for short times, but only when I am completely relaxed and you are one of the few who have seen that.

You once called me needy and to an extent I suppose that it is true. But when you have walked under blue skies and felt the warmth of the sun upon your back you are going to reticent to give that up. More importantly, you said that I was the love of your life. Who else should I be needy for or with.

Sometimes I feel like a fool. Sometimes I feel like a chump who knew from the start that it would end badly. Sometimes I think that it was better to be hard and to push you away. That is what is so funny about this. Damn, if I don't remember a thousand times when you begged me not to go. Damn if I don't remember telling you to go find your smile and then come find me.

But it didn't work out like that. Didn't because when I gave you my heart I promised to be your hero and swore that I would take the lumps. Swore that I would save you first because you are my air and my heart. Did you see that? Years later how do I refer to you, but in the present. So I ask myself this very simple question.

Does the heart know things that the brain does not? It is always followed by its evil twin who asks if the heart can fool the brain into following the heart. Do I hear and see what I want to see and not what is real. I know which way I fall on that. I know what answer I give. I know what I will do and how I will do it.

There are no guarantees or promises. I find that hard to swallow, so very galling. It chaps my hide in so many ways. But dammit, I cannot be anyone other than who I am. So I continue to dance in the fire. I continue to live inside this burning house. The fire burns so brightly. The flames embrace but do not consume me. Damn you woman, will you not take my hand or must I continue to ache. Will you allow the flames to continue to have their way with me.

What will it take? What must I do to prove myself? If you haven't figured it out you stubborn broad, I don't break easily. When you ripped my heart out I did not die. I may have screamed once or twice. I might have shed a silent tear, but I didn't give up. I mastered the pain and found a way to stand again.

Perhaps I do nothing but play the fool but I do so with purpose. I stand my ground because I remember what was and know that it didn't end because there was nothing left. I will not allow circumstances to be the sole arbiter of what is to be. I hear the echoes of the future and I stand here waiting their arrival. Time will tell whether I stand alone or not.

Remember what we were told. We can heal each other. Take my hand and we'll set the night on fire. Please don't leave me hanging. Long ago you said that it would be tragic for two people not to be together. You were right, but it would be more tragic for two people not to try.

Come dance with me ballerina girl.

"And in the end
The love you take
Is equal to the love you make."

I Loved Her Once

I loved her once. She was tall, with dark hair and dark eyes that sparkled. Her smile lit up her face and her laughter was infectious. But I didn't love her because of physical gifts or actions. She was smart and ever so quick. One of the few who got me, who understood me on a different level and in a different place than the others. But I didn't love her because of that either.

Nor did I love her because she was the one who I trusted completely and felt safe with. Didn't love her because of soft kisses and sweet whispers.

I loved her for all of these things and more. It was complete and consuming this love. Didn't matter that she wasn't as logical, rational or together as she claimed. Nor did I care that sometimes she would flip out and go off about crazy stuff. Damn woman found her way inside my head and heart so I took the good and the bad. We called it a mature love, deeper and more powerful than any we had ever experienced before.

But the gods laugh at those who aspire to climb the heights that we found ourselves upon. Icarus flew too high and his wings were shorn off causing him to fall into the the abyss. When his wife died Mighty Orpheus marched straight into the underworld and negotiated a deal with Hades to secure her return to life. Just moments away from their goal he failed in his resolve and lost her again to the underworld.

So if you ask me if I refer to us as a Greek tragedy than I say yes, I do. I do because you cannot share the things that we did, say what we said or feel such things and then fail to find a way to be together. I say it is a tragedy because to view it in other terms either diminishes it or calls into question the integrity of another. And so I have found myself alone and apart, dancing in the fire for untold ages.

I loved her once. She, who I speak of was the dearest part of my heart and the essence of my soul. I stare into the blackness in silence and replay that which once was. I think of Elizabeth Browning and Bertrand Russell. I see math, science and poetry. I hear the music and the whispers. There are moments where I feel her still, sense her close by, can smell and taste her.

But she is never there and now in my darkest hours I witness the entrance of anger. I acknowledge doubt and wonder if I am a sucker who misunderstood it all. Wonder if I saw only what I wanted to see. But I take a deep breath and recognize that the anger masks the hurt. The anger is a mask that I wear because it allows me to say that I loved her once when the truth is that I love her still.

And in the silence of the night lost in the shadows are the things that tell me that I wasn't a sucker or a fool. The evidence isn't based upon formulas or science. You cannot build your castles upon the foundation that we built, at least not those made of brick and stone. But you can find something more durable and lasting. The love that built what once was is more powerful than one can measure or imagine. And if you open your heart to it you will find that the person you never knew you needed hasn't disappeared or gone away.

And in the silence of the night you might find your fingers interlocked with theirs and your breathing in rhythm as the heart you share still beats for both of you.

Chasing Ghosts Isn't Profitable

"Oh, I've seen fire and I've seen rain
I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I'd see you, baby, one more time again, now"
Fire and Rain- James Taylor

You screamed when I told you that he was gone. I don't think that you were cognizant of it. I don't think that you had any awareness of anything other than raw grief. I don't know if you knew how my heart broke when I told you or how each time you screamed it tore another chunk of my heart out. The pain in your eyes was indescribable and it was all I could do not to join you in wailing in sadness.

I tried to pull you into my arms to comfort you but you pushed me away. I bit my lip and took a step back to let you begin grieving in your way. In the movies I would have forced you to cry upon my shoulder. You would have fought me for a moment and then relented, but this life isn't a movie so I had to choose another path. So I stood there and watched you sob and wondered how I could help. Watched the tears roll down your cheeks and grew angry at the unfairness of it all. Stood there and watched in silence while I tried to find a way to give voice to my rage.

"It may sound absurd...but don’t be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed...but won’t you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream
It’s not easy to be me"
Superman (It's Not Easy)-Five For Fighting

Blame it on too much television or a love that is overpowering, but I always wanted to be your hero. And for a while, I was certainly him. I was your knight protector, the man who wore the white hat. Always willing and able to protect your honor and to fight on your behalf. It was a role that I took on unexpectedly but with no hesitation.

No hesitation because I loved it, or maybe because I loved you. It was natural and effortless. I remember walking with you. I lumber and you float but we did so together. Our strides and pace perfectly matched. It opened our eyes to new possibilities and we saw what had once been old as new. Long conversations about life, love and dreams turned into passion foretold by poets.

"Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!"
Wild Nights-Emily Dickinson

There are tales that could be told and songs that should be written. It matters not that there are but two people who would understand or appreciate them. Such is the way of love and lovers. We walk upon clouds that sometimes evaporate beneath our feet. Sometimes fortune smiles upon us and our falls are broken by wings that sprout from nothing.

And sometimes fickle fortune fails to answer the calls that we send forth and we find ourselves plummeting back towards earth at a frightful rate. Perhaps it was that fall that caused us to forget who we were and to ignore who we are. I did my best to catch you so that I could break your fall. I tried to ensure that I hit the ground first so that I might try to save you.

But sometimes the hero fails. Sometimes the capes we wear bestow no power other than to serve as a silly looking fashion accessory.

"She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind"
Whiskey Lullaby- Brad Paisley with Allison Krauss

So I stood there and surveyed the wall that had suddenly been erected between us. I took its measure and considered going over, under, through or around. For some time it felt like the hero was bound to fail again.Super strength wasn't enough to remove the obstacle nor was super speed. It was a conundrum of the first order and something that accentuated the ache and the hole in his heart.

And then one day the hero remembered that sometimes the best way to tear down the wall is not through demolition but conversion. Build a door or build a window and what was once a wall evolves into an entryway that can be used as a path into a future of bright and sunny opportunities.

Flotsam and Jetsam

I am in desperate need of a vacation. Need, not want. I want the vacation....badly...but it is more than that because I need it. There is too much going on, too many fires burning, too many balls in the air and too much chaos. The relentless noise and the cacophony it creates inside my brain are giving me a monster headache.

Patience and tolerance ran away months ago. Those two are like Siamese twin, conjoined at the hip or head and never apart. Not that any of it matters because they are gone and I have been forced to delve into the darker recesses of the blackness that resides inside. Gone deeper than before where no light pierces the darkness and discovered untapped reserves.

Or maybe I should say that the beauty of having a large ego is that it pushes you to make a choice to lie down and take a beating or rage at the world. Rage is a funny thing but not in a laughing way. Some people hear or read rage and fear it because it suggests uncontrollable anger. I disagree with that. It need not be that way. Sometimes that incredible anger is the fuel that you use to keep on going when all your reserves feel like they have been tapped out.

Sometimes you can control it, harness it and channel it. That is what I am doing. So if you ask if I am angry I will nod my head in affirmation. I am that. If you ask if I am frustrated I will nod my head. But I will do the same for sadness and joy because I am that as well.

I am all of that and more but not all at once or in a way that doesn't allow for control. I still have plenty of that. I won't let go of that because it is the guiding light. It is the reason why ultimately success will be mine- all I need to do is hold on.

Johnny's Thanksgiving

There were moments where Johnny thought that one of the great tragedies of his life was his inability to sing or play an instrument. He was a man of passion and intensity who had known tragedy and triumph. He believed wholeheartedly that he had stumbled onto one of the great loves, if not the great love of his life. Fear and uncertainty had taken her from him and that was something that he had been unable to reconcile with himself.

For a long while he had foundered between anger and sadness. Most of that was directed inwards, which if you knew him was to be expected because he had no bigger critic than himself. There had been more than one occasion upon which he sat in the dark and stared into the black wondering what if. It was an easy trap for him to fall into albeit a foolish path for him to tread upon.

It was easy because hindsight made it clear that there had been a better way to do things. It was easy because looking backwards he could see the path that he should have taken and he didn't know how not to hold himself accountable. It didn't mean that June held no stake in this or that she wasn't culpable because no relationship is completely one sided.

But Johnny always saw himself as her hero. It was what he wanted to be and he suspected so did she. In fact he was certain that it was how she had seen him. So he shouldered the burden of expectations that may not have been completely reasonable and did his best to try to understand how it was he had fallen from the mountaintop that he had once walked upon.

His pain was significant and in many ways far worse than it would have been had it been of a physical nature. A broken bone would have ached and stung but there was medication that one could take to numb it all or to at least take the edge off of it. There was no such salve for a broken heart. You couldn't drink or smoke it away all that you could do was try to live through it.

She wasn't the first woman to break his heart but she was the first to shatter it. For a long while he was convinced that there would never be a time where it would feel better. It made him angry and bitter. There were moments where he wondered if it was worth it. Moments where he thought that when he didn't know that June existed he was happier.

But Johnny if was nothing else, he was a fighter. He didn't walk away from battles or give up just because things got hard. In his younger years he would have approached this as a war that could be won via brute strength. His stamina and tolerance for pain were considerable and he would spent a significant amount of time attacking the problem from that angle alone.

However Johnny was no longer a young man who was led solely by emotion. Time and life experience had provided him with a certain amount of wisdom, enough to make him sit down and consider his situation. And in this case one could be confident that he had spent many hours examining this from all sides. One could be certain that he had taken the time to consider whether this was best left to rest or if the situation was something that could be salvaged and if so, how.

And so it came to pass that he found himself laughing at the absurdity of it all. Laughing because for the longest time he and June had argued over whether one could apply logic and reason to relationships. She had often maintained that she was both and he had laughed. He took great pleasure in teasing her about it and told her that logic/reason had a tenuous grip upon affairs of the heart.

Yet, here he was groping for strands of logic and reason that he could weave into a tapestry that made sense. If he wasn't careful he would suddenly proclaim his love for Barry Manilow and calculus. The thought made him laugh harder and had you seen him you might have described it as gales of laughter emanating from him. And for the first time in a great while he felt joy and happiness.

He still loved that crazy woman. He loved her with the same fierce intensity as he had. She was still the woman he never knew he wanted or needed but this time he had developed a new understanding and appreciation for her.

It was easy to admit that he loved her but frightening to realize that he had no control over anything but himself. Easy to admit that he wanted her back and kind of thrilling to think of the future. Terrifying to realize that it might never happen and that he would just have to find a way to fill the hole.

Yet he couldn't help but believe that she felt it too. Couldn't help but believe that they weren't done yet and that there was more than a little magic left. Couldn't help but believe that maybe this time apart was what they needed and that it was going to be a key ingredient in helping them to forge a bond that was deeper than before.

And that made his heart pound. The two of them had loved each other more deeply than any other. They had gone to a place that few couples reach and thought that they had reached the top of the mountain. It almost seemed crazy to consider that they could get closer than they had before. Crazy because they weren't together not by any definition of the term- not to mention that it seemed silly to tempt fate by suggesting such a thing out loud.

But relationships aren't based solely upon the heart any more than just logic and reason. Rather they are a meld of all of that- a magical alloy that you can't find listed in the periodic table. Call it the 107th element.

Johnny stretched his arms above his head and smiled broadly. Still smilingly he grabbed a coat and stepped out into the cold dark night. Alone with his thoughts he looked up at the moon and sent out thoughts of love and joy into the night. With care and great effort he directed them to find a woman working in a kitchen far from his.

He didn't have to call, email or text her to know that she was working hard to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. Didn't have to close his eyes to see her move gracefully from refrigerator to stove or to picture how good her food would smell.

There beneath the moon he thought again about how he wished that he could play an instrument and or sing. The two of them were living a silent symphony and he wanted to sing or play it for her. Still he couldn't help but smile because he knew that she could hear the song of his heart and that was more than most.

Happy Thanksgiving June- I will see you on the other side.

Words Left Unspoken

"she runs from my words and hides from my heart
and all the while it weeps endlessly
while my soul reaches for hers
and wonders why it doesn't answer"

More Than Just Words

I dusted off the shelves and looked inside my head. I stared in the mirror of my mind's eye and played the films of the great loves of my life. I watched as I laughed and cried. I stared intently at the boy whose heart was filled until it would burst and a part of me wept as I watched that same heart tear itself apart. It made me sad to see a part of him die and to remember that empty feeling, that hole that felt like it would never heal.

And then I watched in amazement as he found his way through the desert and rebuilt what was broken. Even though I knew the story I couldn't help but smile as I watched him rediscover what it meant to not just love, but be in love.

I rejoiced with him as he remembered just how love could be the finest addiction around and that he knew that it didn't have to die. There are some loves that surpass time and can survive death. It sounds hokey, it sounds like a cliche, but I know it to be true.

There are people who are so very right for each other that you cannot imagine them ever being with someone else.