The Sleep Tight1.A thin film of eucalyptus leaves and drowning mosquitoes covers the dull translucent surface of a circa 1950s chlorine deprived kidney-shaped swimming pool. The cement and water bulls-eye for a three-story, pay-by- the-week motel called the Sleep Tight Motor Inn. A sun-warped sign on a chain link fence warns, "no lifeguard on duty." The lifeguard is NEVER on duty. Skateboarding twin brothers stand at the pool's locked gate and complain... "This is messed up," one says "they should like drain the fucker." 2. The motel's stucco walls Are ashen and heat cracked. Dark brown trim boards frame bent window screens and soap streaked panes of glass. (Some shrouded in aluminum foil.) Outside room 19 The doorknob wears a cardboard collar That reads, "Do not disturb." This amuses the motel's Peruvian janitor. The two men renting 19 Have not been seen in weeks. The handyman has developed a few theories As to why... 3. up on floor three a middle-aged woman's small, soft white hands adjusts the angle of a telescope. Positioning the barrel Through a tiny gap between curtains, she swivels it downwards Focusing on the Rite-Aid parking lot across the street. Last night she studied the Seven Sisters This afternoon as the telescopic eye in the sky, the digitized voice of a reclusive prophet, she fixes her lens on earth. Picking up a cell phone her right index finger taps redial. Instantly, next to the newspaper racks, The drugstore pay phone starts to ring. Hidden, she watches and waits. Someone will answer-someone always does. Primer GraySmoke ring in a windstorm.Old man with blindfold and cigarette. At the university he had shown promise, had been called a diamond in the rough but the years have gotten away from him. He pissed away his time. Now he waits for the phone to ring, for Gabriel to call and ask if he has one last request. From the beginning desire had been a map without names, never sure where he was or where he was going. Change made for the sake of change. Point A to point B In a car painted primer gray. He drank too much slept too much read too much chased easy too much never finished the great American novel he had sporadically written the last 17 years. Now the Rambler sits on blocks, The manuscript lost somewhere in the basement. He calls himself "invisible man on blue planet" the events of his life written in disappearing ink. Nothing to offer as evidence of having circled the Sun. Staring thru kitchen window at winter sky he chain smokes, sips hot tea, waits for the angels to raise their rifles and take him home. StressSomewhere just beyondthe valley of shimmering silicon, hidden beneath dying branches of a train track willow tree, 2 Mexican v-necks work up a good buzz surrendering to twi-light with malt liquor and the swapping of lies. These cross-tie compadres have all the trappings of the homeless Loosely thrown into a Safeway food cart. Felix laughs at Ricardo. "Mas cerveza cabron." The Mexican boys can see themselves In the dark tinted glass of a passing southbound commuter. Inside, upper deck, sits Lawrence, marketing buzz-saw, studying a memo regarding changes in the company's 401K plan. 8 hours of giving corporate head and home he goes. It's Thursday night. That means pasta primavera And the season ending episode of Survivor. One more day of tap dancing and the weekend is his. Saturday he's got tickets for Aerosmith at the Shoreline. Ricardo picks up a small stone. He likes the feel of the granite in his hands. Carefully setting down the King Cobra he cocks his arm and lets fly. Too late. The train is gone the target missed. Inside the moment Lawrence feels sharp pain to his forehead. "Stress" he mumbles, ransacking his briefcase for Tylenol. (thinking to himself) "There's no way Susan and the kids will ever know what I suffer to bring home the bacon." Now a mile back, Felix laughs at Ricardo again. "Hey mi amigo" he says "you throw like my sister." |