He tried
honestly tried
Never(thats always a huge order)
to take for granted the simple
things that provided him pleasure
sitting having breakfast at a diner counter
rather than squandering an entire table
pleased
him
his breakfast pleased him
enormously
its buckwheat pancakes with fresh
blueberries worked into its batter
the butter patties on white slips of paper cherished on top small cubes of ice in a
shallow sauce bowl to its side
a
separate plate of thick bacon rashers not
well done
the ironstone cup(he could drive
a nail with if need be) filled with smoking black coffee and the handsome buxom
waitress(buxom not fat a rare commodity) who bent over his cup and listened to him
when he told her
he wanted his coffee black
and she
filled it completely without leaving room for cream
laying to the left of his meal he admired the ramshackle
clipboard he scabbed more years ago than he cared to count from a garbage bin
on a military base
if not for it he would have been arrested for trespassing
it distracted him
he went one way after it
the phalanx he was with went another
and while it clashed with
military police and was violently subdued
he
went over a chainlink fence into a woods and secreted himself throughout the night
he was fond of it and its lever that slopped and clattered but tightly
held the loose leaves of paper which one side had been appropriated with text its opposite side unwrit was the side faced
up entertaining him naked
begging to be clothed in ballpoint ink
its pages barely begged for long
his handwriting was expansive and illegible
most people who became intrigued
with his printing/writing wanted to know if the language was Chinese(their
first guess) or if it was code
replying that it was English didnt
satisfy their curiosity
Of course its English they said
as they continued to scrutinize it and roll their eyes as if he thought they
were stupid enough to buy that it was actually English
Move along he wanted to say Move along
Nothing to see here I dont know
why you should care what Im doing
Move along he wanted to say You surely remember that curiosity killed the
cat and crippled the gawker
atop the loaded clipboard were
usually a book or two or a complement of magazines he also admired
he loved the words they
uttered silently and turned the clasp in his brain like
skeleton keys unlocking unknown rooms pantries and cupboards
stocked
with either gruesome discoveries murdered bodies never imagined to be found trophies dead memories or innocent moments laying forgotten
words rocking ideations thoughts creative
slips and slides queer manipulations
then with breakfast savored and
finished the waitress bent over him again vigorous at his dishes and refilling his
coffee smiling widely as she catches
herself holds her tongue remembering
he was drinking it black or either was alert to the
hint were wasnt a creamer around him
Was
there anything more she could do for him
he eyed the slice of her cleavage
and told her the fresh coffee was wonderful and in a bit if either she could
keep his cup refilled or provide him a carafe in a bit
if her fruit pies were as good as she was hed probably want a slice of one
Her pies
were as good as her
Then fine a bite in a bit
she smiled effervescently
reminding him of crescent moons
appearing over the mountains smiling over
deserts reflecting in motel pools and Midwest
lakes and on the dark curl and spit of the sea
taking up his Bic pen sipping
some coffee and then returning the cup to the worn Formica boomerang-etched countertop
he
absently followed their design with his eyes
then with his pen
he meditates
then lubed up the coffee oiling his gears
he begins to write
write
what pleases him
he wrote this(but kept the
waitresss phone number to himself)
2324, Friday,
3 7. 15
