Sober
Call
me when you’re sober –
Click…dial
tone….
When
I’m sober he sneered
Downing
the last shot of EJ,
Easy
Jesus as it’s known in these parts
He
rose unsteadily to his feet, leaned into the slight breeze
And
made a crooked B-line to his slick, black, mazda
Fumbling
for his car keys he ignored the calls of his bredrens
Wanting
to know ‘wha gwaan’
‘wha
gwaan was that right now he felt like shit inside’
Tho
he swayed like a palm tree as he walked
Behind
the wheel he was THE street racer
Call
me when you’re sober – click – dial tone
It
pissed him off, dialing her number off the speed dial
…voicemail…
He
was going to settle this tonight.
Months
upon months they went through this façade
This
game of hints and gestures
Of
fake smiles and plastic faces
Poker
faces for each other
Staring
at each other’s sins and
Speaking
out with silence
And
working things out through inaction
While
he made love to 150 proofs
And
she made love to him…
Call
me when you’re sober – click – dial tone
His
vision became monochromatic
Foot
flooring the gas he drives steady
Blood
vessels pounding, his world melting like plastic
From
the heat of his rage bubbling past angry
Weaving
through traffic along glistening streets
Pock-marked
with rain filled potholes
Populated
by bowed head humans going about their daily human lives
On
their constant human grind
Having
no place or concern for a human like him
Simply
because everybody gots their own shit to deal with
So
his shit gets dealt with at the bottom of progressively potent bottles
Since
they don’t “communicate” anymore
Then
he’ll “communicate” with Napoleon and Cavalier
He’ll
ride the Night Train along with Kolbeck to English Harbour for a sip of the
Five Year Rum while dancing with Bloody Mary on occasion
And
when he’s done seeing pink elephants, unicorns and blue flames off of Absecent
He’ll
confess his sins to the Easiest Jesus he could get a hold off
He
scoffed, falling into a dry, hacking cough
She
had the nerve to tell him to call her when he’s sober
As
if he didn’t know that this farce of a relationship was over
That
the flames had banked and died
That
love didn’t live there anymore
But
what actually lived there was the cum stains
Of
that motherfucker she didn’t even try to hide anymore
He
felt like crashing
Just
fold up into a utility post and bleed quietly
But
why die quietly when he could take the Gorgon with him
And
if Fate was particularly fickle then three hearts would leave this world
together
Like
a hymn
Ahhhh
Fate is indeed fickle
There
was that car again,
Parked
up in front of his gap,
As
if its driver owned the place.
Cum
stains on my sheet
The
words, the images bounced around within his head
As
a haze descended blurring his vision
Was
it his fault?
He
screeched to a halt
Put
the gear in park, pulled the hand lever, fumbled with the glove compartment
Questing
for and finding solid death
Reaching
for his Glock he took the safety off
The
handle fitting perfectly in his hands like an old lover
Leaving
a metallic taste in his mouth
The
same taste that filled his mouth months ago when he sat at the edge of the
cliff
Near
the old fort with this same barrel cradled on his tongue
He
stepped out of the vehicle
The
heels of his Timbs crunching into the wet gravel
A
dark grey mimicking the burdened, pregnant clouds ponderously floating by
Like
lords of the ocean deep
A
fine drizzle misted but not even that could cool his resolve
His
heart felt heavy
Heavier
still, than the grim reaper manifested in his palm
Calm
seemed to envelope him and he made his way toward the door
Using
his key he opened the door
The
living room was clean,
Nothing
out of place
Not
a speck of dust
She
always was a neat freak
His
feet moved him towards the bedroom
It
would seem his anger had burned the alcohol from his system
Well
he won’t be able to blame it on the rum, whatever he was about to do
Stopping
in the doorway of the bedroom, his bedroom
Their
bedroom
He
took in the sight
Of
well folded clothes placed on the chair near the desk
Shoes
placed beneath the bed
Belt
hanging on the chair back
She
on all four on the bed offering the air her ass crack
As
the owner of the car parked outside
Who
made sure that even in the heat of passion
His
clothes should be neatly put away out of respect for her OCD
Smacked
her ass repeatedly as he plunged deeper and deeper in time to the rhythmic
thumping of the bedhead
Doing
what he used to do
What
he and her, they used to do
In
a bed they used to share…
He
stood there as they both spasmed and screamed their orgasmic delight
He
stood there as the infiltrator, shuddering, withdrew and dripped, dripped
On
the bed sheet
He
stood there as they untangled and lay down breathing hard with sweat and broad
smiles
He
stood there as their breath caught and smile froze when they saw him
He
stood there as their eyes widened ever wider when they saw the cold steel in
his grip
He
stood there as fear washed over them with a stink much different than the one
They
not too long made
He
walked slowly towards the bed
A
million and one thoughts racing through his head
He
cocked his head to the side, contemplating the dread on their faces as they
realized he was raising the gun and that he was as serious as a heart attack
When
he heard his children’s voices floating in from the walkway outside
The
sound of the school bus faded slowly along with the screams of excited children
going home from school
‘Daddy’s
home, daddy’s home,’ they squealed in chorus,
They
must have seen his car, he thought.
He
paused, blinked and then walked away slipping the gun into his pocket
As
he greeted his children at the door with hugs and kisses
‘Daddy,
daddy, we missed you so much
‘awww
and daddy missed you too.’
‘Whose
my boy’
‘Me!’
‘And
whose daddy’s pwincess’
‘Meeee!’
‘And
who wants icecream?’ he asked to a chorus of Me’s
He
smiled, took their little hands into his and walked away
‘Daddy
can I have chocolate? I love chocolate,’
‘Sure
princess,’
‘Daddy
I want pistachio’
‘Anything
for my boy’
Gazing
at their beaming faces he felt love and joy
And
a sort of peace
A
peace that was somehow denied him
And
his smile faltered a little
As
a bit of sadness touched his heart amidst echoes of disappointment
And
anger
Yet
still he knew that everything was going to be alright
Yes
he knew this with every conviction as he stared at their faces
Their
innocent, joy filled faces
Dissolving
into
Masks
of unblinking terror
And
a scene too real to escape
He
had to say something, anything at all to make this right
To
bring back his peace of mind
But
try as he might he couldn’t think of anything better to say
As
he emptied the gun into both of them
As
all the months of shit and frustration possessed his trigger finger
As
his screams of anger and madness soared with the barking of the pistol
Drowning
out their screams of terror
Except…
‘I’m
sober now’
Glen Toussaint©2012
