3.14.2015 Journal Prompt

Photo by Manuel Alvarez Bravo
Photo by Manuel Alvarez Bravo

March 14, 2015: In the light…

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One thought on “3.14.2015 Journal Prompt

  1. We got a sorta club thing going on, me and Cootie and Charles and Port-wine. We meet up most mornins down at the Comedor, which sounds like it might be a grander place than it is, and what it is, well, it’s a bar that is just some tables and chairs and the sun on our backs when the shutters is raised and music playin soft as wind blowin. And we meet there just to start the day – coffee or a beer dependin on the time of year.

    And we talk ‘bout what’s what in our world – not the big stuff; not the stuff in the news and the stuff playin over and over on the tv in the corner with the sound off or makin headlines in the newspaper that Cootie brings with him each day and don’t ever get to read. No, we talk about the stuff in our world, which is to say we talk about our wives and our families, and bitchin ‘bout the aches and pains we been collectin through the years, and the weather outside and the price of bread or beer.

    But all that is just smoke and mirrors, which is to say that aint really why we meet nor really what we want to be talkin ‘bout. There’s a girl, see, and aint there always? And she works at the Comedor and she’s ‘bout as sweet as honey or sugar, and we all of us has the same thought when we see her, which is not just a thought but is a wish also – a wish that we was a lot younger than we is. She’s pretty as peaches and she’s got a voice that is all singin and song, and she sings us a good mornin whenever we are there at the Comedor.

    Sure we got wives, and I reckon as Cootie and Charles and Port-wine, well I reckon they loves their wives same as I love mine. And there aint no harm in what we think and what we feel when we see the girl in the Comedor. She puts a spring in our falterin steps is all, and maybe there is a softness in each one of us after we has been with Binnie and we take that softness into the rest of our day – her name’s Binnie and I don’t even know what that is.

    And Binnie, she don’t even notice the years we got on us, pretends she don’t at least which is near enough the same thing. And don’t she call us handsome and smart, and all sorts besides, and soundin like she means it. And she touches our hands and she don’t be actin like she’s been stung by no wasp or nothin. She just smiles and says we is the sunshine in her day, when she is the sunshine in ours.

    And sometimes Binnie turns the radio up cos there’s a song that she knows and likes, and she asks us if we feel up to dancin with her this mornin, and we draw straws like it is a dare we none of us want, which is the opposite of what it is. And dancin with her, it is like I am handsome and smart and all the things she says. And holdin her to me, holdin her like she is a memory and dear, well shit if that aint the nearest thing to heaven and angels then I don’t know what is. And Cootie and Charles and Port-wine, they all think just the same cos I can see it in their faces and I see their hands shakin after, like they has touched somethin holy and forbidden.

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