REMINGTON GRAVES
The desert had agreed to an ancient pact and sighed its dark winds without want. The shades of red and sun bleached burgundy covered the mountained backdrop as shadows ran like frantic orphans.Arcane wailings whistled through the sun cut holes in the stones and crawled with their never ending fingers across the landscape. Cacti watched in silence as the long white Cadillac sped and growled with its clangorous heart; the virulent V8 pulled, despite the swallowing slow burn of apathy that sits in plain sight waiting for every man its prey.
One red and white beaten, mangled duct-taped boot floored the gas pedal irreverently while Heartaches played on the radio as loud as the stereo would allow. Patsy somehow set the mood-always. Filterless cigarette after cigarette. Elbow out the window. Right arm stretched over the passenger seat. Clouds of dust and stone trailed behind as he would deviate from the asphalt to take a hit of the bottle from his right shirt pocket. Wayfarers reflected the terrain in his travels. He was growing hungry again and knew a diner was approaching. The road spoke to him. They communicated in silence as Cline bellowed and boomed. He’d glance in the rear view and there she would be, singing to him with a wink. “Ain’t that a laugh?” she would pucker.
The ding of the diner alerted Dawn the waitress as she drooled out slowly, “ Howdy, stranger. Just grab a seat anywhere ya please. I’ll be right over with some coffee and some pen and paper to take your order.” She stood from a stool and disappeared into the back as he sat at the bar cocking his hat back and rubbed his eyes, stretching his neck from side to side. “Take your time, darlin’, Just don’t take too long now. Daddy’s gotta eat.”
“Ok, what will-…” she managed to get out as her eyes fell upon the lanky cowboy. “Well, you’re as pretty as a movie star. You in the pictures, Mister?” She yelped as she pulled out her pad from a stained apron. “Got a name?”
His blue eyes widened, biting down on a Lucky as he lit it and said, “Name’s Bill Bailey….and nope, not a big fan of the pictures, doll. Now, music. Yeah, that’s got my heart strings. This dump gotta jukebox somewhere?” He said shifting in his seat looking around. “ I start to get irritated I go too long without Patsy playing, know what I mean?”
“We got a jukebox, but no Patsy, sorry.”
”Now see… that’s the kind of business that gets my Irish up right there. How in the hell you…never you mind, girl, just fetch me a piece of cherry pie, will ya? And be quick about it too.”
”I—“
“Too slow,” he said smiling and cocking the cigarette to the side and grabbing her by the neck , slamming her against the wall right next to the kitchen door. “I really didn’t want to do this until I had my breakfast, but we might as well get ‘er done.”
”Please, Mister, please.”
“Please what, you miserable cunt?”
‘Shh, don’t make a peep, Dawn,” he said as he pulled out his revolver and shot the cook in the face as he stepped out. “Goddamn it, now who the hell’s gonna cook me that chicken fried steak? You know how to cook, don’t you?”
“Not no chicken fried….,” she gurgled as his straight razor slid across her neck slowly.
”Your momma failed as mother,” he said puffing clouds of smoking with his cackle.
Door slammed shut. Ignition turned on. Booze wetting his lips. “You know, it’s a good thing I never tire of these diners, darling, cause there’s plenty more up ahead. You ready, ol’ gal?” He asked turning the wheel to the right and looking into the rear view.
And came the crooning, “I love you so much, it hurts me….”
∞
BOYD RICE
“When you are born without the ordinary feelings and emotions shared by most other human beings, life looks different to you. It seems at times like a movie you’re walking through, more spectator than participant. There is above all a lack of empathy with most of mankind, a sense of detachment. But with detachment comes perspective. The less you care, the more you know, and the more you know, the less you care.”
∞
REMINGTON GRAVES
The hallway was long and marbled. Whispers skipped on cold floors. And I was blind there, naked and golden ratioed at the rayless end.
Me as prisoner prayed in murmurs, beneath cool sheets, in profound Orphic slumber.
In both places did I chant synchronicuntical requiemus.
Impetuously strumming at the strings of a sadistic lie, the gnawing at the back of the squirming mind, dancing in what mortals call a perfect circle-on a ledge-without promise, amid a beckoning surrender…there was an end to the passageway and it pledged without platitude a prognostic on premonition.
Mute was I also, but in bursting of the bludgeoned beast, with bent bars of a paper cage, with lost memories of a last feast, a crack spread forth from the shadow end…reaching across the cosmic, bleak corridor.
It was elegant-the cunt that gaped in summoning. Coming to fruition without benediction, stars emitting its unfolding blankets across an ocean of time, beneath heavens devised, aloft broken notions of balance.
I am awakening.
With thunder shall my words be.
With great terror enshrouded in beauty.
Levitating above god and beast.
∞