A Stroll Downtown

The city had a buzz. People spilled out of the bars and restaurants, sparkling white smiles all around.

Most were dressed in their summer best. It isn’t their fault that their summer best ain’t all that hot. Polo shirts went out of style a decade back and it was never particularly fashionable to wrap one tightly around your gut. The women were dressed better, like usual, but bleach white pants lose their charm by August and never did much for me.

I don’t blame them though. Not anymore than I’d blame her for where I am at. Without an aim it is tough to find your way.

There is no sense in casting blame. No, it isn’t worth it. It is a disservice to all, especially when it is a thank you that is owed—gratitude, as they say ad nauseum. She brought me to my knees and, yes, I say thank you. Humility manifests in many different ways when your eyes are open.

Hand in hand we walk down the sidewalk. Smiling faces bob up and down as we float past. There is no conviction in our stride and I feel like a tourist in my own city.

The tension is building. She hasn’t spoken in 5 or 6 minutes.

Overhead the sky gets thick. Heavy like it ought to be.

“I like this song,” I chirped, “Dylan had a gift.”

“Not much in the way of a voice.”

“Listen to the words.”

“That’s all I ever do.”

A crowd of seagulls charge by, squawking like they do. Droppings barely miss a polo-shirt-white-pants-couple.

“I know I should’ve bought you flowers.”

“I just wish you would’ve held my hand,” she says back resolutely. “And the airplane thing!”

“How was I supposed to know couple sat next to each other on planes?”

“Just ask anyone else,” she said, shaking her hand loose. “Ask everyone!”

“Ask... ad nauseum...”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She snapped back.

“Who would’ve thought...? ad nauseum...”

“Are you drunk?”

“It is just an extra word... just a filler word in my opinion... oh yeah—oh yeah—let's get to the x’s and o’s of it... the meat and potatoes. It can be unpopular, it needs not be perfect.”

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Why can’t you see me?” I shot back.

“I do!”

“No you don’t. You haven’t cared to open your eyes... Not once!”

Her eyes and teeth shined brightly.

I sat down on a bench in silence. She looked at me, completely exasperated.

“This is it?”

“We’ve both known.”

“It would be so easy to just... not.”

“I know. But we’ve just... not too many times to kick the can down the road again.”

A tear ran down her face. It hurt me.

She blurted something out, but I could not hear words anymore. I sat motionless and watched her walk away. Long before I realized it, the night had fallen almost entirely dark.

I lit a cigarette and thought about the last flight we took and wondered how I’d missed the earth-wide memo.

There was a dimly lit dive bar across the street that sounded alright. Good enough for the occasion at least.

I walked in and sat down at the bar.

“Shot of whiskey and Guiness please.”

The bartender poured two shots and took one with me. I looked around the bar and saw three pretty smiles. Two of the women were wearing white pants.

I walked over and said hello to the girl wearing jeans and a white t-shirt. She said hello back and I sat down. I spoke to her and she spoke back.

"Tomorrow is not promised,” I told her.

“That is for sure.”

She put her hand on mine.

Me? Well, I guess I’m doin’ fine—yeah—I'm doin’ fine.