THIS IS THEIR STORY

This is their story,

The story of a man and a woman, 

two young lovers who meet in school 

and date two years. 

This is their story, 

a young couple 

who graduates together, 

sleep together, 

weep together, and

takes a trip together.

This is their story, 

it's about relationship

and place. 

This is their story, 

it flashes backward and forward, 

to time spent 

and time to come.

Thirty days in memories

This is their story, 

it takes place in a Mercury Cougar,

a V8 automobile.   

This their story, 

it takes place in the western states,

starting in New Mexico (they wouldn’t stop until they were out of New Mexico) 

and at the Grand Canyon. 

 

This is their story

with stops along the way at Lake Powell,

The Utah Narrows.

This is their story, 

it takes place in a tent 

on campgrounds, 

in a cheap motels, 

friends' apartments, and

pullout couches.

This is their story, 

it takes place in hotel room in Las Vegas on Fourth of July 

where they consider their Independence. 

This is their story, 

it not the dog’s story,

she was left at home. 

This is their story,

it takes them to Yosemittee, 

The Redwoods. 

Then up to Eugene, 

where they discuss graduate school. 

Who would go? 

And where? 

What about the other? 

What is the definition of Compromise?

This is their story, 

it's about two people know each other 

spend so much time together

to see if it's meant to last 

any longer than that.

  

This is their story

it stops in Portland, 

just for a night: 

For Roses and spaghetti. 

Things seemed pretty good between the two of them at this point.

This is the break in their story.

New characters are introduced, 

friends are visited. 

his brother flies in.

This is their story, 

He leaves but comes back.

they reunite 

and head to Seattle.

She likes Seattle,

talks of moving there, 

he says he's not into it.

This is their story, 

sights are seen 

and borders crossed. 

This is their story, 

eleven states are covered, 

a province in Canada makes an appearance. 

This is their story, 

it makes its descent,

back to New Mexico, 

they stop along the way 

in Missoula,

the Tetons, 

and finally in Denver.

HE WILL. HE WILL.

He will be born on a Saturday.

He will be of average birth weight and length.

He will have a mother and a father, and they will love him.

He will have a brother and they will be close.

He will be lucky.

He will  know his mother’s mother and his mother’s father quite well. And, he will meet his father’s mother, but only know her a little. He won’t know his father’s father at all personally for his father’s father died when his father was in his 20s. And before he was born.

He will be raised in the southwest quadrant of the United States of America. He’ll attend public schools, and make friends and enemies.

He will have approximately seven gerbils, two parakeets, a cockatiel, a ferret, and a hermit crab. He will try tending to tropical fish during those pet years.

He will play sports but will not be too good at them. He will join clubs and quit clubs. 

He will do okay in school without fully applying himself. He will learn about new things but will get bored and distracted. He will run fast but not fast enough. He will not test well in math.

He will learn to drive and drive to different places. 

He will have various facial hair configurations. 

He will get a tattoo.

He will fall in love and out of love and back in love again. He will wonder what love is.

He will be made fun of by friends. It will take him longer than expected to reach his full potential.

He will do drugs and smoke cigarettes and enjoy them approximately 50 percent of the time. He will eat mostly what he wants. He will drink copious amounts of alcohol. He will keep mostly to himself. He will be unlucky. He will stop drinking alcohol entirely. 

He will apply for jobs that he thinks he wants. He will rarely be satisfied with his work. He will be self-conscious. He will go bald. He will make money and spend money. He will go broke and worry about money. He will not always do well.

He will have two dogs that will overlap slightly. He will be close to them both and it will be sad when they die.

Somebody will tell him that that’s just what happens when two living things form a relationship. One of them will die first and the other will die alone. Both of them die. That's just the way it goes. Everyone and everything that is living, that has lived, and that will live will. He will write this down.

FOURTEEN TENSE

It is a new year, so I will write a list in the future tense.

I will show up for work. I will show up and work.

I will concentrate.

I will drink coffee.

I will run in the morning.

I will floss my teeth at night.

I will be more patient.

I will check my work.

I will slow down when I need to slow down.

I will read. And will re-read.

I will write. And will re-write.

I will shave when I need to shave.

I will behave when I need to behave.

I will be nice to people.

I will be nice to myself.

I will be nice to animals.

I will ride my bike.

I will walk.

I will be responsible with my money.

I will get health insurance.

I will go to the movies.

I will see art.

I will call friends.

I will travel.

I will go to shows.

And that goes to show that you can write what you will. And, will yourself to write a will if that's what your want to write. Or just a list of things that you will do.

COFFEE FIX

I sit down to write about yesterday's coffee adventure, ironically, at a coffee shop.

I run out of coffee, and put off getting some by sleeping in then going out for a cup at a place that gives free refills. After that, I go to the store and shop for coffee for such a long time need to take a bathroom break. I continue shopping at the store for a coffee that is competitively priced and locally roasted. The best deal I find is from a roaster that s not far from the store itself. I put down the bag. And decide to jut walk to the roaster instead. It is in the direction that I am going anyway. I think I will get fresher coffee there. I think that I will get a better deal. I think that I will have something to do for the second part of my day. I leave the store buying nothing.

If there is password protected wifi at the coffee shop you're are at do you ask the barista or a fellow patron for the password? I try Yelp.

I walk towards the coffee roaster, zigzagging my way to street it's on. On the way I see a boarded up house, a child running next to a father figure on a bike, and two boxes filled with shoe insoles. Someone walks uncomfortably close behind me for a short time. I pass a bar I've been to once. I pass an erotic shop. A man jaywalks from the other side of the street, and, when I look where he came from I see the name of the coffee roaster on a sign above a door. I thought the roaster was on the side of the street I was on. Apparently I'm wrong. I, too, decide to jaywalk this somewhat busy street.

If you get tattoos on your feet, would you ever wear socks? I wouldn't.

Once I'm on the other side of the street the sign is not as apparent. I am too close and cannot read it. And I walk right passed the coffee shop. I turn around and stand in front of the open door. It smells like cigarettes and not roasted coffee. There is music coming from within. Live music. And singing. There are people gathered around a guitar player. It doesn't make any sense. It is early in the afternoon, and during the week. And that's when I notice that everyone in the coffee shop is mentally retarded. They don't pay much attention to me. Even the woman at the counter acknowledge me standing half in, half out of the shop. I look at the counter and don't see any bags of roasted coffee beans for sale. I've already had free refills. I don't want to drink coffee here. I am scared. I leave.

If your girlfriend is coughing and blowing her noses in a napkin, would you allow her to feed you the bran muffin she insisted on buying and hand feeding you? Yeah, me neither.

I walk down the busy street, the direction I came from, to the light and the cross walk, to cross the street appropriately before heading home without coffee. I walk past a housing service, an industrial store for dolly wheels, an extreme outdoor gear shop, and an Irish sports bar with Looney Toons on the window.

The girl with the bran muffin mentions that she misses stripping. I can't help but sneak a peak at her and the guy she's with.

Across the street I see the same name of coffee from the store and coffee shop. It is the roaster. And I am on the wrong side of the busy street. The cross walk is down a ways. I will pass the roaster before I cross the. I don't go back.

The couple gets up to leave, but not before talking about her meeting his parents. I try branmuffin for the wifi password. When that doesn't work, I type stripper.

2013

I didn't even know myself.

All year I shopped for clothes

That didn't fit – sizes I thought I was.

I bought large shirts and sweaters and jackets.

Picked out pants the wrong cut.

My britches were too big for me.

I wore clothes that didn't fit.

Like hand-me-downs from

My much bigger brother.

Until recently I didn't know my legs.

Or what my waist was.

I didn't know whose body I had.

This year I'm more aware. 

Of what to wear!

I've finally figured out what I am – a medium.

BANK TELLER

—Welcome to Wells Fargo.
—Hello. How are you?

—I am fine thank you. And you?

—Doing well thanks.

—Just the deposit for you?

—Yes, please. And thank you.

—Hey, we're both Smiths. Maybe we are distantly related.
The teller's name tag reads Marie.

—My grandmother's name was Marie. We called her Grandmarie. But she's dead now. And wasn't black – she was a quarter Jewish I recently learned. But maybe we are related. Distantly.

—Push the button on how you want receive the receipt.

PURPLE PANTS

Walking across the street from me

From the waist up was all I could see

White shirt and curly hair blowing

Sunglasses and a shoulder bag

A Fiat between us prevented me to see

Your purple pants.

SPACEMAN

Parking near the ballpark is no walk in the park. We're here to see Bill "The Spaceman" Lee, 65, who played for the Red Sox and the Montreal Expos, when Montreal had Baseball. I remember his Topps Card. Pitching with a space pack on. He had a moon ball. I remember him winning a lot of games. The Spaceman was breaking his own record as oldest pitcher to win a professional game, I had to see this old man suit up for a minor and independent league club, who was hosting a team from Maui. Who's heard of these teams? At the field were fans here to to see one man. The aforementioned Spaceman.

We're meeting Jake at the gate. We have two printed tickets. I'm with Maggie. We've been in the car one hour, driving to and looking for a place to park the car. I don't want to miss the first pitch, and am showing signs of irritability. I said something wrong. It turns out it's not sold out. Jake got a wristband and we traded our tickets for wristbands. And we were in the stands for opening pitch. We couldn't have timed it better. Except for Jake standing in line alone while we fought before finally parking the car.

The old man went to work and was hitless through 4 innings. The luck wouldn't last. Lee gave up 3 runs in the 5th. It doesn't faze him. He gets up to bat and hits an RBI, 3-1 Maui. The Pacifics of San Rafeal, tie it up in the 6th inning 33. But #20 on hits a one run shot to take back the lead 4-3. That's when a relief pitchers stands up.

Maggie goes for food. Asks if I want anything. I say no but now I do. I'm hungry and have to go to the bathroom. Jake and I play catch up. I find out about the girl who dropped him off, the one he spent the day with. I get the last bite of Maggie's sausage.

I stretch my legs and wind up Maui's dugout. And see a pitcher in a hooded sweatshirt reading Livestrong walk by. Just today Lance Armstrong relinquished all 7 of his Tour victories, to stop the fight agents agent's doping chargers. This, two days after Bortolo Colon of the A's was banned for 50 games for testosterone. And Mekly Cabrarra of the Giants, for the exact same thing. I turn to look for the 65-year old pitcher. Going for the win. How could his still be doing if he was doing the drugs these guys are doing? He's here because of other drugs. He's happy to be here.  From outer space.

Space man gives up a run. It's 4-4.

I'm sitting next to a woman and we get to talking. She's from Boston and grew up watching the Red Sox. Of course she remembers the Spaceman." He used to say some bizarre things. Kara Ann Smith is an attorney. And she's getting real kick out of this pitching performance. She takes photos and has been sending texts to her brothers who still live in New England. "They're not responding. I keep forgetting they're three hours later. They have to work tomorrow." Smith recalls working at Fenway during the Spaceman's heyday. "I was going to school in Canada but when my friend accepted a job for ten of her friends, running stats I hitched down—It was great!"

Now in the bottom of 7th. The bases are loaded because of an intentional walk that no one can figure out. And the pitcher throws to DJ Dixon. And he hits a 3-run double, 7-4. In the 8th Space man comes up to bat for the third time, he drags a bunt down the 3red-base line and moves the runner, who would soon score over to third. Spaceman was called out at first, but it was close. Now up 9-4, The Spaceman, all 65 years of him, was going too close it out and beat the record.

THE 'WRITER

A single sheet of white typing paper scrolls

down and around to face front.

It snaps into place as Smith-Corona waits.

Hummmanahummmanahummmana

Spacebarspacebarspacebarspacebarspacebar

A manual indentation is made.

To start a new paragraph begin with a single word.

Finish it by striking one key with the right hand's ring finger. Period.

Taptaptaptaptap

That's the sound of fingers depressing the keys

of the typewriter in the room down the hall.

Set atop a rickety desk, the typewriter is electricity.

Hrrrrrrrrrrrrt. Out comes the page, one of many.

Slapped, character side down, the page enters the box from which it came.

STRIPY

A feral cat named for his stripes is lost. Likely not to be found, coyotes run rampant in these parts.

There was a knock at the door. Oh here we go. Another solicitor. The woman on the other side says her name is Diane. She's holding a laminated something I can’t make out. I thought she was selling cleaning solution like the last solicitor who had a phony form and a plastic bottle. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t selling anything. She lives across the street. At–the house with the gardens. The image is of her cat, Stripy. Diane tells me his name is due to his stripes. Stripy's feral, Diane says. She’s had him for a few years. Stripy's been missing for three days. And Diane is concerned.

Heidi's going bonkers. She greets all visitors like they're best friends. She jumps and sits at the feet of them, wagging her tail, waiting to be petted. She wants attention. I mention to Diane that Heidi doesn’t allow animals to get close to the house. And that Stripy probably won’t be found here. Diane is nice. She thanks me. I hope Stripy comes home.

• Side note: I used to have a couch named Stripy for the same reason that Diane’s cat got his name. It’s the same couch in American History X. This was pointed out to me.

A couch named for its stripes. photo in jar

The next morning I’m looking at a poster for Stripy that Diane must have put up. I’ve been noticing these missing cat posters lately. A woman walking her dog, yells to me. I saw a coyote. I hadn’t seen one in awhile but saw one this morning. It was young one, she says. She's telling me because of my pup. She’s ten. A coyote, around here? The woman with the dog walks past. She points that it was just up the hill. Over one street.

 I go back to the picture, admiring those stripes. Poor little guy doesn't stand a chance.

Also, it turns out a lot of cats look like Stripy.