Walk With One Shoe 4

Trembling she staggers to the corner, the street lights oozing silhouettes below majestically. Playful leaves skip across the street. The gutters wet with tears as  lovers jilted by the lies of the night cower in the darkness sobbing uncontrollably. “He said he loved me, now he’s with that whore!” she screams its just another night in the city of dreams. Romeo barks at the cresent moon jumped up on pills and cheap booze he skates across the linoleum floor like Fred Astaire not a care in the world in his mid twenties his shoes give him away, one generation from the trailer park estate not far from here, he exits the club full of false faith in humanity. Sirens wail another unfortunate train of events transpires. Romeo in the darkness consoles his love “She’s nothing to me, you’ve got it all wrong” he says “she’s a whore, I saw you with your hand up her dress”, dripping  desire all over the floor, he shrugs “well then” he say’s “thats it, is it? maybe you should have thought of me when you were gyrating on that guy’s leg, you weren’t so bothered then! you’re just as much a whore, I’m outta here you coming or not” he says with that she struggles to her feet and they leave in a taxi. Party smiles, “young love”. The corner of China and Elizabeth, a hotbed of wishfull thinkers, hobos, destitute grins scared by ice flow through the early morning drizzle, creampuff steroids hover over the young partygoers eager to enter the cum stained doorways of the clubs hopeful of meeting their desire, their knight in shining armour. Its 3 o’clock or close to it my mind drifts off not knowing where to go, seemingly endless thoughts captured by the branches overhanging the path shaken to the floor by another passerby asking for change or just wanting to chat about their children that they haven’t seen since the court order, Party and I head for the shelter of the carpark.

Passing the crowd of young hopefuls we see Romeo arguing with the cab driver, his girl half out of the cab spewing on the street, hair covered take away glistening in the neon. Romeo runs down the street howling at the moon “you’ll never catch me” he screams, laughing hyena the cabby drags the girl from the car, turbin red with rage clenched fist in the air the girl vomits on him, we slow to catch the nights foley. Party wants to give her a lift,  “she obviously needs a hand” he says with a sly grin, “not your hand” I say, “you’re looking for trouble there” we drive off. Just around the corner a police van all lights blazing corner a group of less fortunates shuffling them into the back of the van, battons at the ready they swipe at the people with no regard a brutal cleanup of the city, it amazes me how ruthless they are when dealing with people who cant fight back hands at the ready to shoot first and ask questions later, yet when confronted with an opposite deadly force they scramble around like fairies pathetic really, anyway we head off home. The freeway empty apart from a few drag racers lights out pushing their machines as hard as they will go. The night falls away slowly as I open my front door exhausted.

It’s close to noon before I awake from my slumber, my ears still ringing from the night before the echo of Romeo’s voice reverberating in my conscious. Its Friday my bike beckons the warmth of my attention I ride through the hills, smells of roadkill choke my throat as the engine roars through the valleys, birds evacuating their tree homes as I ride past at a deathly rate. The tires grip the road like rails as I criss-cross through the countryside, eyes watering behind my glasses, hands pale in the winter sun, I slow up and enter a service station to let my bike suckle on the feet of a bowser. Away we go again splitting between two cars the road melts beneath us.  As soon as the sun shone it rained, the way home became a battle of the senses my face and hands stinging from the gunshot like pellets of water streaming down with such ferocity, the long forks of my bike cutting through the rain like a plough, the immediate chill of soaked clothes engulfs my body as I pull in under the old elm tree, home. Steam rises from my bike as i kill the engine, the weathered doors of the garage open to a dim lit room scattered parts on shelves well worn from countless hours of giving and taking, the smell of burnt oil heavy in the space. Black and whites of past champions. Vintage steel warriors  adorn the walls.

The Trump of the North violates my tv, as I walk into the living room championing his divine right to destroy his toy world, a comic situation of futile demonstrations, quaffed hair raises his fist “We’ll make this country great again”. Bombs destroy families as he pats his own back, warmongers hard with the thought of newer ways to destroy, permeate lust behind their puppet leader. Men in black pull the strings of the marionette party as I fry some eggs and ham.  The rain still strong outside drowns out the idiocy on the television, it seems as though the world has turned into a sitcom the good the bad and the downright what the fuck. Oh well it is what it is I say to myself  pour myself another drink and light a cigar life ain’t that bad at least now anyway, we’re all walking with one shoe, every one of us, no matter how much money we have or don’t have. Theres a fine line between contentment and loss, the more you have the more you lose. Time is most precious commodity to us all, and it’s the awareness of that thought that is the hardest, me well, I try and live in the now after nearly dying at the hand of another that sort of thing becomes more apparent.

Sunday, Frank rolls up at the front door. A friend I’ve known for a while he’s slightly older than me, he owns the bar we all congregate at, like a church for the left of centre. A son of a preacher, Frank is very animated, a caricature of club life his conversations like sermons to the weak of mind, he acts out scenarios of last nights incantations with such vigour “ Praise the fool for he knows not what he has done, and he who buys the last round is alright by me Amen!” He laughs, so whats Happening, do you want to come and see  Silverman, he’s fixing some lunch for us, I said you’d come”. “sure” I said “, how is he doing?” “good, good, he’ll be happy to see you”. We head on up to his place, hired hands dot the property as we roll up the driveway. A solid man, he greets us with a smile “hey, good to see you both come in I’ve got some food inside. Fallen on hard times he pours some wine “I’ve got a new scheme in the works should bring in a couple bucks, always the entrepreneur he smiles beneath his tinted glasses. “thats great” Frank exclaims “at least you’re getting back out there, how are the workers panning out for you?”, “great” he says  we feed on simple hospitality and talk for a while then head off, Frank dropping me back home before going back the bar.

Exploding backpacks.


Time passes as innocently as possible, new bullets try for the target of hope as the white scurries through my veins like ferrets permeated blood stained pelts. It’s early morning everybody is asleep, enjoying the solitude of silent mass. My feet,  claustrophobic squirm in my shoes uncontrollable unease my mind fights to rationalise the situation. Fuck it! I scream in my mind, I remove just the one shoe and continue on with the night. Another coffee and a cigarette, right off we go. The sound of middle eastern music encroaches on my carpet an SBS display. Mountain gunned subtitles. The flow of promise waning as the t.v devours my will, my conscious thought, the flex of my hands across the keyboard.    I reach for another  as last nights escapades scramble deep seated drones, more coffee.

New souls on the scene hide from a torrent of drunken conduct, “oh! is that the time?” the smile of a Storm uneasy in a red chair swiftly motions to the flight of stairs disco light prison break. Upstairs conversation in every corner people milling about consoled in the dull light of the room. Young hipsters brave the conversations not knowing the outcome of their comments, nervously they  attend their pouches of tobacco as an alpha lights the room with a roar of observational discontent about the nights inadequate  foley of joyful souls parading the bar downstairs “what is it with everyone these days, everyones heads buried in their phones, why do they bother to come out at night?”  no one really bothers to answer, he sips his wine in  muted anticipation still nothing because lets face it who cares, he realises there are no takers in the conversation and moves on “pass me that ashtray will ya”. My mind pauses for a moment as i gaze over to the couple on the couch, young love; well at least for the night she’s young but old enough to use her charms enchanting her new prey while nervous stains leak through the young buck, she circles hey prey, her arms like the body of a snake slither around his neck her eyes black and all consuming look deep into his. A sly grin. “ I hope he’s gonna buy you dinner first I call out” she laughs but little did the buck know it certainly would cost him dinner more drinks and candy and she might even let him get in the taxi regardless to the fact that he will be paying for it. Her tongue flickers across his cheek, the buck breaks loose but its no use he’s been poisoned with her charm the resistance is futile she orders a drink pointing at the buck “ yeah sure” he says with a nervous quiver, I laugh Ive seen it all too often “ I think you’ve nearly lost him there” I say smirking “why” she says  I lean over to whisper, she knows its going to be a smart arse comment but entertains the moment “well” I say “I don’t think thats a piss stain on his pants” we explode into laughter everyone turns glad that at least someone is having a good time “you idiot!” she smiles. The moon calls out gesturing “cuppa tea?”  I lean back “sure” grab another cigerette and snuggle back into the couch.

Another tale of a lost light that adorned the rooms that encase us is delivered with fond memories by our host, the nervous hipsters enthralled by the stories ask of her whereabouts unaware of her demise at the hand of fate. Tears long lost by time gone by still find their way back to him as he points to the balcony “There” he says “she fell”, two stories to the ground, his eyes recounting every second as if it just happened “she was just the best” he  says. Hipsters sit in awe “wow!” one of them says, an uncomfortable silence around the table broken only by the scent of a fresh brew “here ya go”, “thanks matey” i say “sure is breezy with that door open, hey Party put on some funk”.  Yeowww! I’m a sex machine, the moment saved everyone grooves out, Frank still reliving that moment I pass him a smoke “here”, The night dissolves into the early morning dew, the crowd slowly disperses everyone heads home.