Raytown

Quiet nights take me on drives, and on this one,
to a local restaurant. The teen-something cashier
checks my ten dollar bill with a pen that will colorfully tell
if I’m an honest soul
or have less noble pursuits.

I pass and she subtly flirts, unaware of my
age or commitment— perhaps not.
I say nothing and frown, while silently wishing there was a tip
jar so I could fail to contribute, just
to drive the point home.

I hunker in a seat by myself and become
self-conscious.
This quickly dissipates as I discover that my
hot sandwich has
cold, un-melted cheese.
Eh, I move on.

Two middle aged women enter and begin pointing and staring at
the sign above my booth, advertising something
they heard was good, but have no intention of ordering.
They’re uncomfortably close and awkwardly happy.
I become self-conscious again.

I finish my meal and refill my drink.
Forgetting my lid on the counter,
I begin heading to my truck without cup holders.
Once inside, I pinch
the drink between my legs and
wonder if there is anywhere else to
go, but home. I drive that direction, tired,
realizing that quiet nights take me on drives,
but loud ones bring me home.

A Cup Full Of Oil

A Cup Full Of Oil


Some places are meant to be left.
Only in memories can they
truly come alive.
And the pain sifts
to the bottom as all the beauty
and all the good
sit on top like
oil on
water.

Some places look better in the rain.
I have my routes
that I only drive in storms.
The sun can taint a scene, exposing faded colors
and giving a cheery personality to something
meant to be dulled by dark
clouds and falling drops.

Some places are hell.
Not the after-death.
But places that are currently real and
impossibly inescapable. Crumbled minds,
battered spirits and ravaged lands can testify that death
is death is death.

But some places are meant for love.
My arms
and my heart.
Your world
and mine.
Life
and death.

A cup full of oil.

54 years

Interview with Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou.

Blue Indian's interview with Aaron Weiss of mewithoutYou from Drew Goddard on Vimeo.