by Stephen Langton Goulet

I was at Joe's earlier tonight, well that's a no brainer, but it was quiet
and the shadows are warm as toast. I curled up into one with a Hail Mary.
Hell, it's Christmas. The day had been sour. The lines, even longer than
last week, longer than rain, longer than back pain.

My shadow, me and my Hail Mary and another two hundred longing faces of the
day I’m trying to block out. I was thinking about facing that line again
tomorrow, like a twitching caterpillar with me the leaf disappearing into
it's constantly munching head. How many more lines? Another day, another
leaf. It feels like an infestation. How many more days? Ten more years to
pension. Ten more years facing lines of munching faces every morning all day
long. Eventually everything turns into butterflies. That's what they told me
ten years ago. I haven't felt the cool brush of an incandescent wing yet. I
take that as a sign.

I'm beginning to lose interest in the shadow. I'm restless and feeling the
itch. Joe appears, smoke like in the low light, smooth and reassuring. "Hey
Darlin', he croons, you have to try some of my nevermind". It's his cute way
of offering me another drink so I’ll sit here a little longer. They can see
my legs from the street. The potentials. Praise Reebok I still got legs. As
long as the rest of me stays in the shadows. "Okay Joe", I sigh and cross
them just so.

He evaporates as the door opens. Customer enters and he reappears behind the
bar giving that welcome nod. Joe's about to utter the beginnings of his
locally famous line when he stiffens and I know he's suddenly wary. I
uncross my knees and slide them under the table, this might be a bad debt or
good cop look, I’m not sure what, when a guy walks through the open door. I
see it's a kid, no more than seventeen. I see why Joe's wary, but he relaxes
as the second person steps in. It's a woman, mid-thirties give or take,
confidant and clearly in charge.

I relax as Joe delivers his locally famous line and shows them to the darker
side of the room. I watch their way as they pass. Hands all over each other,
squeezing, stroking, pinching all the way to the booth. They disappear into
warm shadows, giggling and poking and calling back for wine. Lovers for sure
but in a fling sort of way, too far apart in age for it to be anything but.
They're riding the crest of it now.

I gaze across into their shadows and their giggling as the nevermind kicks
in and I see her legs, slender and naked pouring from the darkness.

There's that song again, Joe's turning it up like a conductor, it fills the
empty spaces between us and I’m remembering it like a painting on a wall.
There was something about that kid; he was cocky, like he knew something
really important but wasn't about to share it with anyone else.

Was it ten years already? Before the line started. Married for years and
worn thin by a bad mix. 34 with a husband who was always around but never
there. Like having a live-in stalker. So tense, never a moments peace with
his friends and his attitude and his damn beer. Then I met that guy,
Charlie, brother, did he rock my world. I couldn't believe my luck, like
winning a trip to Reno. Sure he was seventeen but he was so eager to please
and so grateful. There's nothing more grateful than a seventeen-year-old
male. Doomed of course, not that either of us thought it was going anywhere.
So sad though, he just disappeared.

The couple is even more splendid in their corner but I’m past caring. That
memory should have stayed put, I had no need of it's reminding. I exit quick
with a strained smile for Joe who is occupied with choosing the music and
doesn't notice my leaving.

He's going to play that song for them and it's one I’d rather not hear.
Nothing disappears faster than a cocky seventeen-year-old male. I wanted to
tell them that. I wish I could lean into their shadow and whisper it to them
but I knew they wouldn't care, wouldn't believe, wouldn't change one moment.

The street makes more sense to me with its night full of nevermind.