Smoking Platypus

16

A soft light fills the lobby as I find my way to the hostess.

“Yes, I have a table for9:30, Shaw.”

Looking at a list, “Yes, please come this way.”

I am taken to a table that overlooks the dinning area; it is accessible for service yet remains secluded. (Note to self: Nice job Darrin.)

“I am expecting someone.”

“Yes, sir, reservations for two.”

The hostess walks away as a waiter finds me very thirsty.

“Yes, I need a Pepsi please; I’ll wait to order until my guest arrives.”

“Of course.” And he disappears.

It has to be a Pepsi; She won’t stay if I am drinking.

My jaw is tight and my brain is lava, while the rest of me is becoming damp. My body seems as confused as my mind.

I wait for Her.

The late dinner crowd is talking with a combined laugh, as if they all have the same message to tell me.

I see couples holding hands and I see couples kissing lips.

I wonder what they talk about.

How can I have it?

My drink arrives and I swallow a pill.

A buzz in my ear holds me to the table as I grip my side. It is the organ that has been screaming at me lately. Which one I do not know. I assume my kidney has finally revolted against me.

No one notices this because I handle it like a yawn. I’m a real pro.

Sometimes it leaves a dark bruise were it hurts, sometimes I pass out.

I can tell that this time will just be a bruise.

A couple smiling at each other, unaware of the entire world.

I remember being like that.

It is this memory that meets me at each and every corner. It demands my attention. I try to drink it away only to have it come louder and brighter the next time. I try to destroy it with pills and cocaine only to find myself alone, staring at my eyelids, saying Her name over and over as if magical words begging for sleep.

How can I explain this thing I am inside of?

Being an ecstasy junky means I can feel love like an exposed nerve. It is like a hundred blinding suns. It was as if the entirety of love perfect was revealed to me with that first pill. Love is real inside that cloud, solid and even weighty, I have touched it.

That is why I can whisper about love better than the others.

I haven’t been able to transfer this into my other life because I am an impostor in the world of love. I have entered through a back door looking to loot the place for whatever I can use. It is stolen, therefore how could I ever really share it with anyone? Instead I demand all the energy my lover has then spend it in on myself. It’s like winning the lottery only to be destroyed by greed.

You should never look directly into the sun. Once you have been blinded it is hard to compromise with mere mortals. Let’s try the moon. If you go to the moon you feel that you have this great strength because of zero gravity. You cannot bring that back with you. Sure, you will remember how it felt, and you will try to use that to find your way back, but it only works there. You can’t bring that strength back with you no matter how hard you try.

The pills give you ‘free love’ but you cannot bring it back with you when the pill wears off. Instead you have a vision of what love could be. With each pill you will try to recreate that vision. If you’re involved with someone then you will expect them to live up to those same expectations you found on the pill. It is the same something for nothing expectations that provide the foundation of all participants in this world. But just as zero gravity doesn’t really make you any stronger, the pills don’t make you a better lover- unless you stay in space. (At this time feel free to stop reading and listen to “Rocket Man” by Elton John)

This is why relationships must fail. But I do have the pills. I know they can not bring me the same satisfaction. It’s like comparing masturbation to sex. It feels really great until you are done, but then you are all alone and sticky. The pills do give me access to this love. I’m not convinced about romance but I do believe in ecstasy.

The Waiter returns.

“Sir, the kitchen will be closing in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, thank-you.”

He eyes me with a knowing look and promises to return with another drink. He suggests alcohol. I agree.

I call Mark.

“Maybe something happened.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

I meet him outside.

I do a line.

He drives.

Starz on Broadway

I don’t know how I found Starz on Broadway at the end of the 1980′s but I know how I got to the area.

It was me and my two droogs, which were Shane and Jason. We all fled Olathe for various reasons, but we didn’t move… We certainly fled.

We picked our apartments location by picking an easily identifiable landmark in the Kansas City sky, the radio tower for the public radio station.

We found a gigantic apartment and promptly filled it with wonderful furniture and a foos ball table; all purchased through some sort of wonderful – possibly criminal; (I would like to thank the statute of limitations for making this story possible…) We had gigantic Jane’s Addiction posters and whicker, pillow filled, melty chairs.

We created a rather unbelievable residence that was often filled with the very best people and often contacted by the U.S. Army… But maybe I am moving too fast.

We had moved just a few blocks away from Starz on Broadway, so how long could it take for us to find that lighthouse which pulsated a certain end of the eighties need?

It was not random… the Starz are not random.

PUDDLES OF CLARITY

When my eyeballs find moments that I have tucked away
my smile tells Her that everything could be okay

I remember less than I Know
and somewhere inbetween
is the moment they tag my toe

I have mad distortions of reality
keeping me from screaming
I have puddles of clarity
that remind me;
of my solitude and being

OPINIONS, that is what i have always said is a chance of quality. Agree, Disagree, or lose your ability to do either.

So, its been a little bit- so lets start with the athlete who shot his child’s mother several times then drove to a STADIUM , to then kill himself after thanking some people… the issue here is that people are USING this horrible murder and suicide as a ramp to jump bicycle ideas into our emotions.

I am not referring to Bob Costa’s, i think that people should react and have opinions when events happen. I am referring to the people who think that VERBS are more responsible than NOUNS.

Imagine if Mothers Against Drunk Drivers was instead Mothers Against Alcohol Driving Cars?

okay, maybe try this…

If you took Guns away, they suddenly vanished by legislation- would that stop violence?

If you Took Alcohol away, all alcohol vanished through legislation- would that stop idiots driving while intoxicated?

SO, do we just keep highlighting nouns like “guns” and “alcohol” , delete them with legislation- and imagine that this will create a world without bad choices? depression? addiction? violence?

I think that they would have crucified that independent contractor without nail guns and ply wood.

I am sure that people are killed by knives, ropes, fists, broken whiskey bottles, hospital pillows, and matches… shall we delete these nouns also?

YES, the ass that shot the mother of his child and then himself was able to do it quicker and more efficiently with the use of a modern firearm.

I am also POSITIVE that less people die from Amish horse collisions than people die from the cars we use each and everyday. SO, do we blame the nouns? Will you also stop using your car to travel? Is it the cars fault?

compromise is never perfect but useful, waiting periods are a good idea and probably have saved a few suicides and homicides. I think the idea of a 16 year old driving a car is frightening.. hell, give them a gun and a duck migration- just keep them off the highway when i need to get home..

so.. I had seven dollars, got a pint of cheap vodka- and you get this…

AGREE, DISAGREE, OR LOSE YOUR ABILITY TO DO EITHER