Skip to main content

A Frank Introduction

It seems like it was yesterday when I first met him. The shades of his hair blended, dissolved into that curl. We talked for hours over the things most people don’t seem to mind.
The cup of coffee held our lulls.
“Have you ever noticed how ‘cow’ is such a funny word?” he said to me. “Go ahead, say it five times.”
I did. And the world lost its meaning in my voice, in those eyes.

I missed his point though, I could tell. He looked at me waiting for the revelation.
So I tried again.
“Cow, cow, cow, cow.”
And I fell to giggles after the fourth try. Blushing I ducked my eyes down.
“CowcowCOWCOWcow!” he responded with big eyes, his hands dramatically up in the air.
He looked stupider than I felt. It was good to know the world doesn’t have to feel serious all the time.

We walked from the small café. It was much later than morning time.
We took a right turn down an alley.
Then across someone’s yard.
The sun seemed to hold the growling dog in a light that was almost magical.
I wonder if it held the same effect for the dog, throwing it's light also on us.
He told me how he played violin. That he was in town only for the weekend.
I scuffed my sandal across a pile of dog poo.
And tried to look interested.
Tried to look like I wasn't about to throw up.
He looked down to see why I was walking funny.
Then his eyes got wide and bright.
"Ahhh... I see your in a bit of a mess."
He smirked.
"I just did it to see if you'd be willing to clean it off," I said with a nonchalant air.
He looked into me hoping I was joking.
I didn't let him know.
At last he bent down pulling out a handkerchief. A white one.
He dabbed it delicately around my toes. Did a thorough job.
Or at least it felt like he did. I couldn't bare to watch. I'm not a big fan of poo.
Finally he stood back up. He slid a handkerchief back into his pocket.
A not white one.
His face looked white enough to make up for it though.
I just tried to laugh it off.

Moments later, we were walking across a dirt road. He was talking about the deeper meanings held in stepping into a pile of poo.
I stopped walking under an oak tree.
He found his body facing mine. And closely.
I remember his tongue sliding over my own. Teasing the insides.
I remember my fingers feeling his warmth, then feeling it throb inside of me.
Sweaty breath and deep fumbling thoughts.

"I'll come back to see you, I'll find you, I will." He tells me as he leaves.
I know he won't.
"Oh? And what will your intentions be?" I say.
He doesn't say a word though. Just smiles those bright teeth.
And looks at me with a gleam in his eye.


cbeck said…
that was awesome, cbeck. i thought it was Q writing the whole time and imagine my surprise when it was you!


Popular posts from this blog


When I was in Ottawa, abandoned and enthralled,
breathing in the
heat waves shimmering off the people
and the cats
and that lazy raccoon that I later named Mondrian in my mind
after I saw my first one,
I did not look for you.
Nor in the malls, the halls,
the magazines, in the new towns,
or down the old roads,
on silver screens, between the book shelves, down on my knees
hands in the clover.
I took you for granted.
Oh hey.
There you are.

I know myself
Far, far, far more than I let on
I know what I am doing.

Love is such an easy word.
Besides, it's a given,
We can keep it there, easy, big, broad like the straight black painted lines, it's nice.
Effortless. Quiet. Assured.
So then, I guess that it is not the word.

Punks-Starting to Remember

Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.

When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
"What the fuck, Momma?” Tomm…

Quiet Company

I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold, I'm being sold-out
It is torture but
I don't even care
Except to love you more, to love myself more
Those hot-burned tears for you as I rally to save my skin
wind down me and leave behind gold and green
and I don't stop looking
until I look upon you
What on earth...
I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold.
I'm being sold-out.

Sunlight filtering through cracks
in the sky
in the walls
fall across your skin
I fingerpaint across your chest
Every word
known to man
and found in you

Fresh snow
Our footprints mark us
You are here!
I am here!
We are here!
Turn your face upwards
Let falling snow rest on your eyelashes
(dream of me)
Let the white melt on your outstretched tongue

It's spring.
Just one word.

I'd sit across the hall
looking upwards until I saw the flicker; light on
Sit with you while your busy hands rolled over these plains, these fields
The stretches of nothing
(Look at…