Friday, October 9, 2009

At times I couldn’t wait for some deity to come and reward me for my faith. Instead I focus her shoulders to yonder window. As light from the eyes of the Holy Ghost through yonder window which blessings come alighting on her breasts. This fellowship. All of it in fellowship. The open room of witness seeking such a blessing as well. Children of the moment are they not? For some had come fir the wine in the pots. With your spirit full I took it upon myself to be more than witness. Lifting said spirit with a whoosh and a sigh grab her about her waistline and watch the eyes of the Holy Ghost become focused on her source of pride and shine its light brightest on its very inside. All of it in fellowship.

G.Logan

Since you’re not here. Since it’s been months. Since I have no one else and the distance is long between us. You love Rudy. But she’s just a cat. You love me though, more than that. I’ve been hoping you would come back. Hoping that you wont try to sneak Rudy out in your bag. I could come where you are, I’ve said. But you don’t know when you will have the time, until your sister is dead. Cancer stricken and she has children. A constant vigil at her bedside. I am alone here. She doesn’t like his tone. No family. Anyone. You’re not here it’s been months. It’s been a cool summer. Cooler than usual around here. It’s good for me. I get to wear my hooded sweatshirt for most of it. Switched from riding the city bus after a tree had been felled during a storm. The street blocked by the tree and its limbs. To riding the train to downtown and back. You talk about Rudy the cat most of our conversations and I understand that. I’ve been waiting for you to come back. Hoping you won try to sneak Rudy out in your bag. I could come where you are I’ve said. Can never seem to pin down a weekend. Pin down a date. Pin down a place to sleep. I cannot sleep at your house because the gentleman who lives there would feel put out.

G.Logan

It is the end of the game that shook him up. He blamed the same guy every time he saw him. All he can remember is the whiskey haze. The boys were feeling themselves that day. See him around the train yard and say it to his face. It’s obvious he’s in the same haze as game day New Years Day. The game is gone. The game is over. It’s all he keeps saying as if it was all he had. It was a merry day. There was revelry and all the boys put their money on the table. They gambled as they drank until the other boys succumbed to their stupor. Then he took everything. There’ll never be another game at that location. That fool was tight with the man who owned the house. His limp is more pronounced now. He still goes around looking for a stiff drink and a good game. Things will never be the same. That’s what he had come to say before he spit and stumbled away.

Godfrey Logan