woo girl

I try not to be lonely.

To do this, I try to go outside as much as I can. Not sit in front of the computer, the television, the stereo until my ass falls asleep. The front yard can be a bustling metropolis. It can be a desolate island.

You smile at someone, they don’t smile back. Don’t take it personally. You laugh at the insanity of trying to one up your pals, your co-workers, your significant other, even.

It can be lonely, being alone. I guess it’s better than being lonely when you’re not alone.
**
The drapes are all open. The last rays of sun are creeping inside the house. Trying to find someone to see them before it gets dark.

**

One day, someone will miss me.

**

If you think about it too hard
Too long
Too short
Too much
It hurts.
If you don’t think about it
It fades away
Into nothing
In to everything.

**

I woke up this morning wondering if I was having a heart attack.
My chest was thumping and I could hardly breathe.
I lay there on the bed, thoughts of death filling my brain.
And still I thought of you.
I guess we’re stuck together, since my thoughts are the glue.
Until my heart stops beating
And my brain no longer is filled with your smile.
Your eyes.
Your laugh.
Your cry.
Your everything.
And nothing.

**

I wish sometimes I wouldn’t even try. That I just sat in my life and let it unfold without any thought. Any remorse. Any dare.

Other people make it look so easy. Punch the clock. Eat their donuts. Get fat. Have kids. Grow old. Die.

I guess I’m doing most of those, so what am I worried about. The more I don’t want to be that way, the more I seem to become it.

The hamster doesn’t know why the wheel is there. It just gets on it. Runs, runs, runs. Until it gets tired. Then it eats, eats, eats, eats. Until there is no more food. Then it sleeps, sleeps, sleeps. Until it wakes up. Then it shits, shits, shits. Until it has no more. Then it gets on the wheel. But, if he’s lucky, his owner will get him a woman. And then he’ll fuck, fuck, fuck. Lucky little rodent.

**

A girl came up to me at the bar and asked “do you have a light?”

I looked up, she was maybe 23, pearly white teeth, green bikini on. A gorgeous smile.

“Nope, don’t smoke,” I replied with a smile.

“Thanks,” she said, walking away.

A few minutes later, she sat with some guy. He had a cigarette lighter. I knew this guy. He was two years older than me, full head of hair and a beat up Volkswagen. I saw she had her hand on his leg.

“What’s he got that I don’t have?” I said to my buddy at the other end of the bar, gesturing to the guy with the Volkswagen.

“Good posture?” he said, laughing.

“You’re probably right,” I said, slumped over my warm bottle of Shiner Blonde. I got up and went to the jukebox. I bought the thing three years ago. Said I’d stock it with only good music too. My picks lasted three weeks before the tourists started to complain that they didn’t want to listen to Bill Withers or The Kinks.

“Where’s the Lady Gaga?”

“Who listens to his shit?”

“Can you get some REAL music?”

Over and over I listened to this. Finally, Butch, the owner told me I had to give up at least half of the jukebox for the other paying customers. I tried to argue, but I wasn’t behind it 100 percent. Not because I knew I’d lose, because those are usually the best arguments, but instead because I wanted to get laid. Good music brought in good girls, Butch said right up front. That was like a Mike Tyson uppercut, circa 1986 right to my chin. I had no shot.

I flipped to the beginning of the CDs, where my selections still held strong. I put in a quarter, then three more. I picked C3 three times. “Hold Me Close” by Lucero. It just felt right.

“I fucking love Ben Nichols!” someone shouted from across the bar, right after I’d plopped my ass back onto my seat. She started signing, rather poorly. I listened with great pleasure. It reminded me of all those nights in steamy bars and shitty dives singing my lungs out.

The song ended. She sat down. Then it started again.

“Woooooooo!” she yelled. A woo girl. Sweet.

The song ended. She sat again.

It started once again.

“Who played this?” she shrieked.

I raised my hand like the shy kid in class that I was oh so many years ago. She looked at me. I looked at her.

That was the last time I fucked anyone. That was three years ago in July.