For the lost
Posted: February 23rd, 2006, 9:23 pm
Too late for love
“Jon is in his room again screaming into his pillow.” Dry Marlene Smug-a-drawls. White lines make spare shape design on blue shirt—the fabric looks uncomfortable.
“Jonny takes things hard doesn't he.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“Geoff...” Eyebrow up Marlene. “I have to talk to him again.” She looks down at her coffee. There is a cut under her ear. It is all scabby and makes me kind of sick. “I don't feel much sympathy for him though.”
“I do, but only because no one else does. Look Marlene you stay here I'll go talk to him.”
Jon was sad. No reason. He was just depressed and lazy. He did not try. He walked around with red blood shot eyes. He was not fun to be around. He lived up stairs. He would call down to us and ask us what was up. Then we would know we had to talk him out of bed.
I knock on the door. And feeble Jon opens the door hair askew. I heard Marlene say to one of her girlfriends one time that it was a sham he was such a fuck up, him being so good looking and all. He did not have his shirt on. He was pretty cut. Pretty cut for someone that laid around depressed in his room most of the time. “hey he said.” Opening the door slightly. “got to put on some clothing.” Thank you I thought.
“What is up Jon?”
“I want to go for a walk.” He said. He said it as if it were the first time he had thought it ever in his life. “I want to see the sea, and everything.”
“Sure. You want me to come?”
He looked me up and down. “better put on a jacket.”
I went down stairs to get a jacket. “He wants to go look at the ocean again.” Marlene smiled. Marlene did not care.
Brisk day of gray breeze cold water salty in nose. Flirting fog steam ship bog. Death of innocent and dark is all around in the sad beach of front yard. Jon sits on rock with rip in jeans and looks at his crotch. “It's Kim.” He said.
“She is dead.” Jon put his hand over his head. His face went red. He was clawing at his forehead. Red scrap lines to his eyes. The smell of fish. Broken beer bottle. Fire pit.
“Yea.” Laughing with emotion and pain. “She is dead.”
The fog rolled in off the sea to the beach and I watched Jon sitting on his rock sobbing for Kim. He was lost in the past. The smell of the fire pits and piss was strong. There was nothing to say. She was dead, and had been for years.
“I know it hurts.”
“life hurts”
“yes. Yes it does.” I walk up to Jon and out my hand on his shoulder and say:
“We all miss her.”
Geoff Parsons
“Jon is in his room again screaming into his pillow.” Dry Marlene Smug-a-drawls. White lines make spare shape design on blue shirt—the fabric looks uncomfortable.
“Jonny takes things hard doesn't he.” I take a sip of my coffee.
“Geoff...” Eyebrow up Marlene. “I have to talk to him again.” She looks down at her coffee. There is a cut under her ear. It is all scabby and makes me kind of sick. “I don't feel much sympathy for him though.”
“I do, but only because no one else does. Look Marlene you stay here I'll go talk to him.”
Jon was sad. No reason. He was just depressed and lazy. He did not try. He walked around with red blood shot eyes. He was not fun to be around. He lived up stairs. He would call down to us and ask us what was up. Then we would know we had to talk him out of bed.
I knock on the door. And feeble Jon opens the door hair askew. I heard Marlene say to one of her girlfriends one time that it was a sham he was such a fuck up, him being so good looking and all. He did not have his shirt on. He was pretty cut. Pretty cut for someone that laid around depressed in his room most of the time. “hey he said.” Opening the door slightly. “got to put on some clothing.” Thank you I thought.
“What is up Jon?”
“I want to go for a walk.” He said. He said it as if it were the first time he had thought it ever in his life. “I want to see the sea, and everything.”
“Sure. You want me to come?”
He looked me up and down. “better put on a jacket.”
I went down stairs to get a jacket. “He wants to go look at the ocean again.” Marlene smiled. Marlene did not care.
Brisk day of gray breeze cold water salty in nose. Flirting fog steam ship bog. Death of innocent and dark is all around in the sad beach of front yard. Jon sits on rock with rip in jeans and looks at his crotch. “It's Kim.” He said.
“She is dead.” Jon put his hand over his head. His face went red. He was clawing at his forehead. Red scrap lines to his eyes. The smell of fish. Broken beer bottle. Fire pit.
“Yea.” Laughing with emotion and pain. “She is dead.”
The fog rolled in off the sea to the beach and I watched Jon sitting on his rock sobbing for Kim. He was lost in the past. The smell of the fire pits and piss was strong. There was nothing to say. She was dead, and had been for years.
“I know it hurts.”
“life hurts”
“yes. Yes it does.” I walk up to Jon and out my hand on his shoulder and say:
“We all miss her.”
Geoff Parsons