WHEN

When it's the parked cars that move, and the noisy traffic is like the stillness of a frozen river. Your rotten mind now hollow, a woodwind intstrument to entertain the gods.

DRIVING GORDY TO SLEEP

I was saddened by the sight of an old woman sitting peacefully on her big wrap around porch. A white haired, frail old thing with her hands clasped in front of her, just looking around at it all. It took me by surprise. I had to fight it back. I even let out a little whimper. This is pretty much how I've been lately. I whipped the car around a curve and the bag of groceries fell over on the floor. "GODDAMNIT!" I yelled. "GODDAMNIT!" yelled Gordy. "No, buddy, we don't say that. That's a bad word." "YOU'RE a bad word, Daddy!" He screamed back, kicking his feet against the back of the seat. We passed something dead on the road. A pile of congealed blood like jelly, something somewhat like a face amongst the brown and white fur. Then Gordy started in on his cute little game: "Do you know about fire trucks, Daddy?" "I do!" I told him. "Close your eyes, buddy." "Do you know about cement mixers, Daddy?" "Uh huh." "Do you know about Lightenin' McQueen, Daddy?" "Yeah, I do. Do you?" "N-yes, I do... Do you know about Mater, Daddy?" "Shhhh. Go to sleep, big guy." I watched him take a big long yawn in the mirror. A minute or so later we dropped down and rolled into the parking lot of the park by the river. I cracked a window. A freight train was roaring loud and heavy down the tracks across the water. I kept the engine running and I turned around to look at him. My little guy dressed in all blue was snoring. His head was cocked to the left. His perfect red lips, his ridiculous mop of curly blond hair, his little hands, his everything perfectly still, resting. Outside, the trees were swaying. Clouds were racing in, dark and angry. I thought about my father, my favorite asshole Republican. When would I get to see him again? I need to be near him. Or any of my family? Something was happening, something big. It was certainly happening to me. But I have given up on trying to understand myself. I have given up on a lot of things lately. And it's sad, yes. And humiliating. But while I was sitting here, I hadn't really noticed the birds. They were wild, man, loud as hell. They all seemed to be fucking with each other, darting around after one another in crazy directions like little kids playing tag. A crew was busy renovating a house up on the hill. They were really gettin' after it with their nail guns. The whole world was getting after it. More and more and more and more. What the hell, man? What the fuck are we doing all of this for? How much more more will ever be enough? You know, I had never had surgery before, and I will admit here and now that being "under" was the most perfect time I've ever spent alive on planet Earth. Should I feel guilty about that? I don't know. I don't know much of anything anymore. At this moment as I'm typing these words into my phone, Gordy is starting to toss around a bit. Soon he'll be awake and all hell's probably gonna break loose. Or maybe not? You never know with that guy. A couple just got out of their car with their dog. A big black bear of a thing. A well loved, well cared for, well behaved, pet. And now a big goofy goose goes barreling through the air above us all, literally honking. I laughed out loud: "Haha! Look at that fucker!" "Daddy!" said Gordy. "Hey! Did you have a good sleepy?" "Daddy, do you know about Star Wars, Daddy?" I put the car in reverse as I smiled at him in the mirror. "Yeah, I do," I told him, rolling us back, "Do YOU know about Star Wars, Gordy?" "N-yes. I do.... Do you know about...."