Halfway To Nowhere Special

It is too cold to sleep outside. I shake myself awake every other minute. I even dream of a warm prison bed. I walk the streets looking for cars with unlocked doors. No need for the stereo or their trash on the floor. Just the metal box that keeps away the wind, the cool, Cold air of winter. Protection from others humanity.

‘Wipe that smile off your face.’ I hear a voice remind me.

Up ahead at the end of the block, a dead cul-de-sac looped back like a rollercoaster. On the empty plot at the bottom of the street under a dull, dimmed city light sat an old, beaten farmhouse. Two stories barely stood still, just waiting for a strong wind or a bump from the earth to bring it down, to be wiped and cleared away inviting someone else to begin again. I stood feet from the porch, the sounds of crickets and nothingness battling the ringing in my ears. God, my head ached as I grabbed my bag tighter than a life raft on a sinking boat. Trying to remind myself to hold on a bit longer, that I have something to live for. I was a good liar.

The house no longer had windows or doors, and even parts of the roof had given way to the heavy sunlight and to the birth of bats and rodents. I was in no position to hold a fist towards the heavens, I was thankful to have finally found the bottom.

Beggars can be choosers, but the choices are never good.

As I was overcome with the joy of complete defeat, I heard footsteps jump out from the darken doorway. 2 sets of feet danced closer with each shuffle. I tensed for the surprise of being outnumbered, full of confidence of losing any confrontation, squeezing my eyes like binoculars, focusing thru the hole in the wall which once held a front door. Closing my fists as much as the frozen air would allow, I breathed thru my mouth, holding the exhale. A huge head appeared like a ghost floating down the hall and out to the porch. With each movement, more of the vison revealed itself until I saw 2 hoofs step thru the threshold followed by a chest full of dirt white fur. A horse stepped thru and onto the porch, turning before he came to the steps leading off to the lawn. He didn’t seem to notice me, or if he did, saw no reason to acknowledge my arrival. I laughed quietly thinking it was best not to announce my presence. I took two steps to the side and out of his view. He walked to the edge of the porch, never looking my way, and stared out into the head lights flying down the highway, disappearing into the veins of the mountain that fenced us in, waiting for someone or something to leave or to finally appear.

Behind this broken-down mausoleum that once owned the laughter of children and probably the poor working hard just to stay in poverty laid a small, simpler building. An ugly barn, barley built square with boards of lumber that were never intended to be nailed together to form any sort of shelter. A light leaked out between the slates of wood, shimmering brown from the reflection of the fire off the moon. I am not alone (nor should I be).

I circled around the house and made my way the hundred yards to the closed barn doors, closed like a cupboard hiding sugar. I heard no voices or footsteps sliding their way around inside. I thought, ‘just because I don’t see it or hear it, doesn’t mean it’s there’. without concern I stood tall and limped forward.

As I got to the door, I straightened out my shirt and shifted my pants, getting ready to wear my most unassuming and passive face I could muster up after all those frozen hours stumbling the streets, hiding from God, my mother, Cary grant or even di Vinci. Anyone who made me feel shame for the hole in my shoes or the inability to just get along.

I knocked as if who was inside was in the other room and I was selling bibles door to door. I would not take no for an answer. No noise came from inside, so I slowly knuckled the door open, only extending my arm and not moving my feet an inch forward. ‘Hello, in there?’ I peeked my head in through the door and looked to the side of the room lit from a campfire popping warm inside the barn. On the dirt floor, sitting Cross legged like the buddha, her hands out in front of her absorbing the heat from the wooden flames, in dirty blue overalls sat Marlene Dietrich. She had a snub of a cigar jammed in the corner of her mouth. I stepped into the room, the air like a warm blanket wrapped around me. I turned towards her, yards away and smiled, making sure not to show the shape of my teeth, which would reveal my class and sanity. Seeing them cracked and browned might lead her to think things of me that aren’t necessarily true or deserve an explanation I couldn't give. But someone like her doesn’t have time for that, and for that matter, neither do I. I took a step or two forward, pulled out a handkerchief and waved it over my head, announcing my arrival and offering my defeat.

‘Miss…. miss….’ but nothing. I wondered if I had even made noise or for that fact was, she really even there. Was I? she slipped her fingers around the bottom of her smoke and dumped the ash between her legs. ‘Mam…. Hello there’. She leaned her head back, one eye closed and puffed smoke from the cigar. ‘yes’, she said. Her accent so thick that even a short response like that seemed strange and lacked any familiarity for me.

‘Do you mind if I stay the night in here… I can’t be out there anymore’. She opened both eyes and pointed to the ground on other side of the fire across from her. I went and closed the door, turned back towards her, fell to my knees, and crawled to the edge of the fire. I tossed my bag a foot in front of the flames and crashed my head deep into it like a soft feathered cloud. I feel like I’m in a deep dream even before my eyes are closed. I hear my heartbeat remind me I'm still alive and awake. As I feel the muscles in my face and the skin on my hands relax a bit for the first time in days, A thick, smoky voice begin a sprechgesang. (Technique between singing and speaking). I felt like a child floating away in a lullaby.

Unsere beide Schatten Our two shadows look

Sah’n wie einer aus Like one seen from above

Dass wir so lieb uns hatten Easy to see

Das sah man gleich daraus How much we were in love

Und alle Leute soll’n es seh’n For anyone who saw the sight

Wenn wir bei der Laterne steh’n Of us standing there beneath the light

Wie einst Lili Marleen Like back then Lili Marleen

Unsere beide Schatten Our two shadows look

Sah’n wie einer aus Like one seen from above

Dass wir so lieb uns hatten Easy to see

Das sah man gleich daraus How much we were in love

Und alle Leute soll’n es seh’n For anyone who saw the sight

Wenn wir bei der Laterne steh’n Of us standing there beneath the light

Wie einst Lili Marleen Like back then Lili Marleen

I let the warmth of the fire and her voice wash me warm. I think, ‘it’s ok if I die right now’. I Smile, showing all my teeth. No need to be embarrassed at the moment. then complete darkness. My demons walk away.

I wake up to a circle of rocks holding cherry red wood with smoke like steam pouring up and out the cracks between the wood celling. I don’t raise my head. laying sideways, I just look forward and across to see her body has gone. The space empty, like grandmother’s spot at the dinner table. Only my memory sees her sitting there, cigar stuck in her cheek eyeing me like a sniper. I sit up and pick up a few pages of a newspaper that had been laid down on top of me. I wiped away the dirt and the tore the damp edges off. I read a few headlines about war and/or salvation before I noticed a noise approach from outside. The familiar steps I hear tell me the horse is outside the door. He must have made his way down the steps to find freedom again. I fold the paper back up in the way it came and lay it back down on the ground flat. I grab my bag and spring up to my feet. They are sore and swollen but not even the worse thing I’ll have to deal with today. I head over to the door, open it up and see the dirty white equine's eyes bulging back into mine. like a hypnotist’s suggestion I step aside, and he trots in, blowing his nose in my face. As he passes by me, I hear a voice, not my own or from my head, whistle to me, ‘I like your yawn’. 'Thank you', I spit out into the air. My steps stutter as I step out of the barn and into the morning chill. still cold but I’ll survive this too. Out into the world, Like the Italians protecting Sicily I leave before it’s over. ‘Good to regret/hate one more day.' I begin my mantra. I look up and see the demons waiting for me at the end of the road. I step up the pace as not to keep them waiting.

I was anxious to please.