Strictly Hearsay

I’m thinking Bob Dylan is to music what placebos are to drugs. You've heard it’s supposed to be good and it seems like the real deal, but you’re just fooled and you find yourself sick anyway.

For Closure

He looked down into his fist and read her hate fused into her text. His finger rifled through her words until her number came up. He pressed the button and cursed himself for allowing her to push his buttons. He put his phone to his ear.

“What!” He listened why she lambasted him. “Have I contacted you once in the last couple weeks?” he demanded. He listened to her rant. “Woman - why are you bothering me?” He scrubbed his scalp while she scalded the emotional scabs she had seared on his soul. He swung his feet off the armrest and shifted his ass until he sat straight on the sofa. “Ok you gotta listen to me,” he interrupted her rave. “Are you listening to me?” He waited for the cessation of her curses. “Ok woman listen to me,” he balanced his body by bracing his elbow against his knee. He balanced his voice. The words marched out of his mouth and tainted his timbre with a funereal feel. “I don’t take attitude from people I don’t fuck.” He heard her scream her silence. “You get that?” He arched his back and sat back against the sofa. “I’m not taking shit from someone who isn’t giving me something. Women get that wrong. You’re not trading anything back here. I don’t get to fuck you - you don’t get to berate and belittle me. That’s why guys leave babe. Right there. Inequity.” Her taciturnity became as tangible as her rage. “There’s always ten women standing around who’re willing to trade that at the beginning of a relationship.” He leaned forward and grabbed his bottle. “You get that? You’re overpriced.” He heard her start to debate and to decimate. “I’m going to hang up now. So don’t call me again. You’ve priced yourself out of the market babe.” He put an end to the call and put his feet up on his coffee table. He looked at his phone, reached for it, and deleted her number from his address book.

Independent October Considerations

1. I looked into her eyes and realized my small victory was her major defeat. I took a moral stand and decimated her morale.

2. David Lee Roth is to musicians what hairballs are to pets.

3. Anatomical terms should not be used outside a classroom. Profanity is the privilege of the populace. Vulgarity is not the tool of the vacuous; it’s the verbiage of the vivid.

4. Why do women get custody of the mementoes? I have no evidence of my existence outside my skin and scarred soul.

5. I can’t lighten up. I’m deadly serious because all I see is death.

6. “Honey, you’ve got yourself a sweet face” the geriatric bartender said as she patted my cheek. I’m too old to be patronized. She’s too old to have a patron.

7. They say men don’t listen. Yes we do. I listened to it 8 times and then I erased it.

From Out Of The Passed

He heard her giggles over his shoulder. He sat with his hat cocked to the back of his head and his forearms on the bar. The rain poured outside and he wore his yellow rain slicker. He pushed a fry past his lips when he heard her over his shoulder. “That’s the brightest coat I’ve ever seen!”

“Ok, because it’s the best coat in the history of earth,” he said as he turned his head and looked at her. “Oh my God woman!” A grin grew over his mouth from the familiarity of her face. “Quit following me!”

She slid her hand around his back, found his shoulder, and leaned in to offer him a hug. “Hello Trost.”

“Hello you!” He couldn’t feign calm. He was too pleased to see her. “What’re you doing here? Can you sit down?”

“Oh, they’re having a drink thing for a co-worker. It’s a last day thing.” She pointed her head to a table behind her. “How about you? How come you’re sitting alone? You waiting for somebody?

“Nope.” He took off his cap and smoothed his hair and replaced the cap. He was nervous. “I’m just getting some food. Why don’t you dump the people and I’ll buy you dinner.”

“Because it would be rude!” She rolled her eyes and sort of pursed her lips into a pout. “Can you give me 10 minutes?”

“Hell yes!” He remembered her pout and her mouth. He picked up a fry and bit. “Go. Get it over with. Come back.” She leaned in and brushed his cheek with a slight kiss. He watched her retreat and thought of the treat of seeing her again. He chewed over the thoughts of the curve of her back and the sway of her hips. He took off his cap, rubbed the top of his head, and covered his hair with his hat. He was nervous. He picked up his burger and took a bite. He thought about her while he ate. He ruminated over his remembrances. He smiled through his meal and felt the fool for feeling so emotional about the encounter. He felt her touch on his back when she returned. “All done?” he smiled.

“Yep,” she said. She started to slip on to the stool.

“Would you rather grab a table?” he asked.

“This is ok.” She sat down and picked up his glass. “What are you drinking?”

“Pale ale,” he offered. He motioned to the bartender. “What can I get you?” He belted his phone. She took her phone out of her purse and turned it off and put it back into its place. She told the bartender her order and turned to face him. He stated, “ok this isn’t going to work.”

“Why? What’s up?” She placed her hand on top of his hand.

“I,” he began, “ we, ah, we gotta get a table. I don’t want to have to turn my head constantly to see your face.”

She laughed, “ok, let’s get one.” They stood up. She picked up her bag; he picked up their drinks. She put her hand around his elbow and they found a table.

“Ok tell me the scoops,” he said as he pulled out her chair.

She smiled as she sat and said, “well, let me see.” He chose the chair beside her. She watched him pull out his chair and pull off his cap. He smoothed his scalp as he sat. “You first. What’s new with Mark Trost?” She smiled.

“Well, ah, I don’t know,” he began a recitation of his history: no marriage, no kids, self-employed. When he was finished, he asked her. She: divorced, children in college, professional. He ordered a couple of appetizers and a couple of plates. They nibbled as they talked. They talked about their pasts and their past paths and the times their paths intersected. They talked about the peripheral people in their pasts. And then they talked about them. “I’ve thought of you often,” he admitted.

“I’ve thought about you too, Trost.” She put her hand in his and gave him a slight squeeze.

“God I was crazy about you!” he reminded them.

“No,” she shook her head, “you really weren’t.”

“Yeah! Woman I was!” he laughed.

“I haven’t heard from you in over 20 years,” she said. “That’s not crazy about me, Mark.”

“Well we didn’t exactly have a happy break-up,” he swallowed his shame. “Did we?”

“No,” she shifted in her seat, “we didn’t.”

He took her hand into both of his, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok Mark,” she smiled.

“No, I was a complete pig,” he confessed.

“Yes, you were,” she agreed. They sat in silence. “Do you ever see her?”

“No,” he sat upright. “No. She called a couple of times after that, but I didn’t even talk to her.” He picked up a chicken strip to busy his hands. “No. The last time I saw her was outside First Avenue that night. How about you?”

“No,” she took her hands away from his and picked up her drink. “You catch your best friend kissing your boyfriend and that pretty much ends a friendship.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He took a swallow of his drink. “I never slept with her,” he blurted.

“Well, ok.” She shifted in her seat. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“I’m glad we've talked about it,” he said. “I’ve felt like a creep for years over it.”

“I’m honestly not that upset about it anymore Mark,” she whispered. “I accept your apology.”

“Good.” He sat back in his chair. “God that was a long time ago.”

“Yeah it was.” She took a sip and corralled her courage. “Let me ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” His stomach tightened. He was ashamed and apprehensive. “What?”

“Why?” She looked away from him. “I didn’t understand. I thought we might get married. My mom and I started making plans. And then you,” she stammered, “and then you did that.” She searched for her next words and then chose to remain silent.

He shifted his seat and sat beside her. “Oh my God, it had nothing to do with you.”

She looked up at him, “Huh?”

“Honestly, it didn’t. And it wasn’t about her.” He put his palm on his head and gave his scalp a shake. “Ok. Do you remember me then? I mean really remember me then? I’d quit the seminary. I’d quit school. I lived in that goddamned dumpy apartment on Grand. Remember? That basement? That black and white hide-a-bed? All those mice? Do you remember? God I hated that place!”

“Yeah, of course I do,” she said.

“Wow. We had some good moments in that apartment,” he remembered aloud.

“Yeah,” her voice dropped to a whisper. She may have blushed. The bar was too dusky for him to see. He needed to know if she blushed.

He was intimidated by her innocence. “Well, anyway, I was just running then. I got this buddy, Jim, anyway, and I told him once how I spent all that time burning myself blue. Like code blue or something. Anything to get out. And I did anything to avoid having to face myself or face any kind of responsibility.” His hands rubbed the sweat off his glass. “So, it wasn’t about you. You were lovely. Hell you still are. But I didn’t want lovely. I wanted to avoid lovely. I was so disappointed in myself. In life. In every goddamned thing.” He picked up his glass and shifted his ass on his seat. He was uncomfortable. His knee brushed against her leg and he withdrew it. “So. You were a future that I couldn’t face. So I took the coward’s way out. I made you hate me and I got out of a situation I didn’t want to be in.” He raised his glass to his lips and swallowed his unspoken secrets. “I didn’t plan it. So please don’t think I did. I didn’t. That doesn‘t make it better. It‘s just true.”

“Oh,” she sat back in her seat. “I never thought of it like that. Sure I knew it was a difficult time for you.” She looked in his eyes and then looked away. “I thought it was because she was prettier than me.” The words seeped out of her as her tears followed their trail. Both left her face.

“Oh my God no!” He sat straight. “Jesus woman! You’re stunning! What the hell are you saying? And she was a complete bitch!” He shook his head. “There wasn’t anything pleasant about her. And oh my God no! Do you remember how unpleasant she was? I never understood why you were even friends with her.”

“You think I’m stunning?” She took the back of her hand and brushed tears away from her cheek.

He rolled his eyes and scrubbed the top of his scalp with his palm. “You know what? Here’s the deal.” He spread out his arms until they formed an arc. “Yes. Yes of course I think you’re stunning. You still are. Get serious. You know this!” He smiled as he shook his head. “Anyone with a head knows this.” He grinned. “Yeah, hell yes you are.”

“Thanks Mark,” she smiled and took a sip. “You’re pretty cute yourself.”

“No,” he laughed. “No, I’ve moved to completely darling. Let’s not even pretend!” He laughed to lighten their mood.

“Oh Trost!” she laughed. “But you are better looking than you used to be.”

“Ok. Ouch!” he feigned insulted.

“Oh please,” she picked up a taco from the platter, “you always were cute but you’ve aged well.”

“Thank you Ma’am,” he looked at her and assessed her intent. The conversation lacked direction and he knew it was time to steer it toward a conclusion. He paid the bill and walked her to her car. “Hey it was really something running into you! Odd don’t you think?”

“No,” she took her keys out of her purse and clicked the locks open. “Mark we live in the same neighborhood. We go to the same places. Honestly I think it’s more odd we haven’t run into each other before now.”

“I saw you at Lunds once,” he admitted.

“Why didn’t you say hello?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began. “No. That’s not true. I do know why I didn’t. I felt ashamed of myself.”

“Mark. Wow,” she put her hand on his arm, “you’re the most open man I’ve ever met!” She patted it and gave it a small squeeze. He leaned over and kissed her. She smiled when they parted.

“That was nice,” he said and kissed her again. “Very nice indeed.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I don’t remember you being this good at it!” She blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. “That was a stupid thing to say!” She put her hand to her cheek.

“No,” he laughed. “It wasn’t stupid. I didn’t have a lot of experience when you knew me. I wasn’t all that good at anything really.”

“That’s not true Mark Trost,” she squeezed his hand.

He put his arm around her and kissed her again. “With all the talking I do, my lips are the most in shape part of my body!” They laughed and kissed again. She put her arms inside his jacket and pushed her hands around his waist. He felt her hand on his belt.

“Come home with me,” she whispered.

“Oh God I want to!” He kissed her. “I’m not going to. But Goddamn it! I want to.”

“Why?” she mouthed between kisses.

He took a step back and took a deep breath, “Why baby?” He shifted his feet and found solid ground. He crossed his arms over his jacket and squeezed the chill out of his chest. “Where’s this going to go? Not that just holding each other isn‘t good enough. Because right now, Goddamn woman, tonight? Way good enough. But shit! Where's this gonna go?”

“It doesn’t have to go anywhere,” she sighed. “But it might go somewhere really nice.” He took a step forward and kissed her again. When they parted she whispered, “I could really fall for you again Trost. You know that, don‘t you?”

“Yeah, and I feel the same way,” he confessed. “But I’m not that guy anymore. And I can’t think of anything lonelier than being that guy again. You want to see me? Let’s go out. I'll call next week and we’ll go out. But I don’t want a just-for-sex thing. I've got that now. That’s not enough.” He pushed his hands deep inside his jacket pockets and located his keys. “And I’m ashamed of myself for saying it. It makes me look like a fool.”

She took a step forward and touched his chest with her hand, “you’re hardly a fool Mark.” She put her hand on his forearm and ran it down to his hand. “No one thinks you’re a fool baby.”

“Ask around,” he laughed. “I've got a woman who says I’m a sonofabitch because she’s an atheist and I said I wouldn’t get involved with her because of that. She thinks I’m an ass.”

“No,” she shook her head, “no. She’s hurt you've told her she’s not worth the trouble.”

“Ok well, anyway,” he looked away. “I‘m probably being an ass walking away tonight,” he took a deep breath, “and I‘m absolutely humiliated.”

“Mark, don’t feel embarrassed because you’re honest! You forget that I know you,” she whispered.

“No baby,” he shook his head. “You knew me.”

“Know you,” she corrected. “I read your blog.”

“Oh fuck!” He scrunched his brow. “How did you hear about it?” He zipped his jacket and pocketed his palms.

“Oh everyone we know reads it!” She smiled. “We all talk about it!”

“Oh Christ!” He shifted his foot and stretched out the length of his leg. He felt exposed like his trousers were unzipped. “So, you want to go out with me next week?” he asked through clenched eyes.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Yeah Trost I do!”

He took her hands and stepped closer. He kissed her. “I don’t have your number.” They kissed again. “You got your card in that big-assed purse?”

She laughed as she fished it out for him. “Call me,” she sighed. “You going to follow me home and make sure I get in safely?” She lifted her eyebrows and smirked.

He laughed. “Yeah I will,” he conceded. “I’ll follow you home.” He kissed her and opened her car door for her. He shut the door and unzipped his jacket as he walked to his car.

Rejecting My Lot In Life

I can walk away.
I can say goodbye and I can walk away.
And I can forget you.

Clique & Claque

When I was a boy there was a toy called a clacker. It had many names yet had minimum amusement. It was two acrylic balls connected to a string. I jerked the string and caused the balls to be in motion and they’d smack into each other and make a click /clack sound. The idea was to move the balls with as much rapidity as possible. I created an arc. It was a weapon. I remember chasing my brother with it. I remember that clackers were removed from the store shelves because the acrylic balls shattered and the shards lodged into children’s eyes.

This morning I received a telephone call from my buddy. He wanted to know my reaction to the presidential election. I thought of a clacker. George W. Bush is the worst thing to happen to the United States of America in the history of the Republic. As a nation, voters recognized his limitations. Yesterday those citizens voted their lamentations. The force of 8 years of failed policies of the Bush Administration propelled a man with dubious credentials and socialist leanings into a position of potential power.

However, Obama is not in the seat of power. He is simply a speeding sphere pushed by a gust from the disgusted. His clout was powered by a claque. They were vocal. They were adamant. And they were correct: his impact will be the greatest impetus for change The United States will ever see. Any child who clasped a clacker knows the impact of being smacked by that sphere. And any child who tired his finger forcing those balls, knows that each seismic shift of a sphere propelled its companion with its contact. And each contact connected and pushed the ball to the extreme. Force met force and friction met friction until the balls were fractured.

As a nation we needed a centrist to stabilize the pendulum. Unfortunately this hard left will force the newly disgusted into righteous indignation and it will shatter this nation into shards. As Obama moves left - his opponents will move right. The right wing extremists do not see inclusion in his clique. They do not seek inclusion; they seek exclusion. And they will be exclusively vindictive in the name of conservatism, nationalism, and patriotism. And those who held the purse strings and paid the clique to push Obama's claque - were so caught up in watching their perceived power, they forgot the impact of their political pacts. Today tears of joy blind their eyes. Yet soon teaming tears will never wash out the shattered shards.

This will not be a new vision for America. This will not be a revision for America. This will be the division of America. Look at the election map and see the echoes from the Civil War. Leftist have succeeded. They’ve created change. Watch the succession of the secession. It means the cessation

One campaign promise has already reached fruition. Obama promised the redistribution of wealth. His proponents had a wealth of disdain for those who had a different vision. And now the offended will dip from the same well of disdain and drink from the bitter cup of incivility. The offended will become as offensive and equally defensive. Jesus Christ - soon their boots will be on the march. And soon we'll hear the clicking of their boots and the clacking of their guns. And they’ll claim it’s civil defense. A united state of despair - no longer a pair. A pared pair. Disparity.

And anyone who cannot see these consequences cannot claim to be enlightened. Because they have eyes that cannot see and a mind that cannot reason. They claimed they were enlightened because they saw the media illuminate the spotlighted spinning spheres. And now they’re so busy clapping at the clicking and claiming inclusion in a clique, that they don’t hear the resounding sound of dissension.

This whirled is at its end of its rope.

My Pledge Of Allegiance

I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord: Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary; suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died and was buried. He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God The Father Almighty; from thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting. Amen.

And I believe it completely, entirely, and without omission with my whole heart, my whole soul, my whole mind, my whole body, and my whole being.

Left Unanswered

He looked down into her eyes as the sweat dribbled from his forehead and on to her cheeks. He bent and kissed her mouth and smiled, “so are we in love again?”

“Yeah,” her smiling mouth met his. “Yeah, we’re in love again.” She looked up at him and saw his closed eyes and opened mouth. They kissed again. She looked up and saw his clenched eyes and closed mouth. They kissed again. She looked up and saw his closed eyes and sweating forehead. She took her hands off his back and pushed her palms against his shoulders. “Get off me!” she screamed. “Get off of me you sonofabitch!” The force took him aback and he backed off of her.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” He was taken aback.

“Get out of my house!” She swung her legs off of the mattress and stood up beside the bed. She switched on her lamp. She reached for her robe. “Get out!” she yelled. “I’m not kidding! Get out!” She pulled the robe around her shoulders and tightened it around her waist. She wasted no steps. She grabbed the drawer of her nightstand and took out a cigarette out, lit it, and took a drag.

He wiped the sweat off of his face and turned to face her. “Jesus Christ woman!” He thought to grab a cigarette and remembered he had quit. He pulled the sheet that was bunched near his feet and straightened it out as he spread it over her bed. “You want to calm down and come back to bed and tell me what’s wrong here?” He took the tip of her sheet and wiped the remaining sweat from his chest.

“What part of get out of my house is beyond your comprehension Mark?” She stubbed the cigarette into her ashtray. “Get out! I don’t want to see you ever again!”

“Yeah, you do. So, get a grip here woman. You’re acting insane.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and grabbed his jeans from her chair. “You want to explain to me how we go from being in love to fighting in less than 5 fucking minutes?” He poked his legs through his jeans and pulled them over his ass. “I mean literally 5 fucking minutes! How the hell does this work?” He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

“Can’t you get dressed in the car?” She stood with her arms crossed over her breasts as her tears made trails down her cheeks. She whisked them off her face with the back of her hand.

“No,” he grabbed his shoes and sat on the bed, “and don’t pull that shit with me!” He pulled a sock over his left foot and then sat up and picked up another sock. “So calm your ass down and sit down and talk to me.” He bent over and pulled the sock over his right foot. “So, what? What‘s the problem here?”

“I don’t want to talk to you! I want you to leave!” She grabbed a tissue out of the box near her bed and blew her burbling nose.

He finished fastening his shoes and stood up. “Ok fine. I can’t ride these roller coasters of you. So, just for the sake of justice, why don’t you tell me what huge infraction of mine caused you to slip out of fucking reality?” He walked over and picked his wallet off of the bureau and pocketed it. He slipped his watch around his wrist and picked up his keys. He turned around and faced her. “Huh? Come on. You owe me a goddamned explanation. We’ve been together off and on for four years. So. Come on. What?”

She sat on the edge of the bed and reached for another cigarette. She started to speak.

He interrupted her, “why don’t ever finish a goddamned cigarette? You stub them all out.”

She lunged off the bed and slapped him across the face. “Shut up!” He started to speak and she raised her hand to hit him again.

He caught her fist like a catcher mitts a fastball. “If you hit me again, I’ll hit you back. I’m warning you.”

“No you won’t!” she hissed.

“Yeah that’s right. I won’t,” he admitted with the ball of her fist inside his hand. He dropped his voice. “Don’t hit me again.” He let her arm drop to her side. She took a step back.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to be around you anymore Mark. I don’t.” She backed to the bed and sat down on it. “I hate me around you. I hate you! I hate looking at you! I hate the way you look at me!” She dropped her head as her hands caught her cheeks. The tears pooled in her palms. “And you hate looking at me too!” Her tears streamed as the air left her lungs.

“Oh my God! That’s not true!” He rushed and knelt in front of her. “Oh my God! Are you nuts? I love you! I love looking at your face! Oh my God woman! What the hell is going on here?”

“I can’t take the pressure of you anymore!” she sobbed. “I can’t! I can’t take that you critique everything I do! I can’t take that you scrutinize me all the time! I can’t take that you always keep all these goddamned standards!” Her tears curved down her cheeks and collected near her chin. She took the back of her hand and wiped them away as she continued her stream of consciousness. “I can’t take it that you feel guilty being with me!” The tears gushed. “You won’t even look at me when we’re making love!” She wrapped her arms around herself at the conclusion of her confession. “Please go away from me. Please Mark. I’m begging you. Go away.”

He climbed to one knee and stood up. “You know,” he stammered. He started to offer a litany of lambasting. He thought better of it. “Ok look,” he began. “Ok whatever.” He walked over to the chair beside her dressing table and sat down. “Um… you know… look,” he shifted his ass in her chair as his mind sifted through her dissertations. “Ok, you’re the one who calls me. You break up with me. You call me back. You fuck with my head all the time.” He bent at his waist and put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. He lowered his mouth to them and rested his lips along his thumbs.

“I know,” she admitted. “I do. I know. It’s so hard to live without you!” she cried. “I try but you’re the only happiness I ever see!” She wiped the tears from her eyes and sniffled up as she took a big gulp of breath. “Do you understand? When you’re gone I feel like I have nothing. There’s nothing to be happy about! And then you burst back into my life and you’re so alive! And I’m resurrected and I can laugh again.” She leaned over the bed and grabbed another handful of tissues. “But you take so much of me all the time! You leave me nothing! Can’t you see that baby?” She raised her voice and echoed it with her fist. “Can you see it? You take everything! I’ve got nothing left! I got nothing!”

“Jesus woman! What am I taking from you? Huh? I’m taking nothing! Shit I’m getting nothing here! Can’t you see that?” He stood up. “Christ I don’t even have dignity! I’m with a woman who refuses to marry me! And you call me and I come back. Every fucking time I come back! Like some asshole!” He shoved his hands into his trousers and fondled his keys in one fist and his glucose tablets in the other. “What the hell have I taken from you?”

“You take my pride! You take my self-respect!” She tossed a knot of Kleenex into the trashcan. “Oh my God Mark - I don’t live in reality?” She laughed with a bitterness that bit into his respect for her. “You think you’re like this easygoing guy that accepts everything? Ha! Mr. Tolerance?” She shook her head and scrunched her fisted Kleenex to grab a sniffle. “Did you watch yourself tonight? Huh? Did you see how you treated that waiter tonight? He undercharged you and you made him correct the bill! And when he said it was ok and not to worry about it, you told him it was stealing and that you couldn’t do it!”

“It was stealing,” he interjected.

“Yeah! Ok it is! But the bill is so over- inflated that it all works out!” She shook her fists in the air. “Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that that waiter doesn’t give a shit whether or not it’s stealing? He just wants to work!”

“I just want to be right!” he insisted.

“You are right! You stupid, stupid, jackass! You are right!” She stared him in his eyes. “Who the hell cares Mark? Huh? Why do you have to be his conscience? Huh? Who asked you?” Her eyes challenged him.

“He did. He asked me to lie and steal!” He took a step toward her and pointed his finger.

“Don’t point at me!” she hissed.

“Look! If you don’t like how I am, how the hell can you claim to love me?” He took his step back and guarded his heart for a blow.

“I love you because you’re right!” she cried. “You’re always right! I never knew a man who was so right all the time!” She took her two fisted hands and watched them as she shook them in her lap. “I can’t live with someone who’s right all the time!” She lifted her eyes and echoed her fists. “I can’t!” She collapsed against the bed and covered her eyes with her hands.

He climbed onto the bed beside her. “I’m not right all the time.” He bent his face to touch her. “I try to be right. But I’m not! Oh Jesus, don’t you know I love you?”

She sat up straight and looked him straight in the eyes. Her voice was staid and inflexible. It was monotonic. “That’s right. There ya go. ‘Oh Jesus, don’t you know I love you.’ That’s it. Exactly.”

“What?” He backed his arms to balance his body.

“Listen to what you just said.” Her crying had ceased and her manner was calm.

“I said I loved you!” he repeated.

“You said, ‘Oh Jesus, don’t you know I love you’” She scrunched to the side of the bed and stood up. “You’re a faithful man Mark Trost. You think you’re not. You think you’re scum because you have sex. Everyone has sex Mark. So what? Believe me. It’s a minor sin. Get over it.” She walked out of the room and into her bathroom. He heard her twist the faucet and splash water on her face. She walked out wiping the wet. “You’re faithful. I never before could put words to all this. You’re faithful. You’re just not faithful to me. So I never know what to do about it because you’re cheating on me with God. See that’s the problem.” She returned to the bathroom and came out without the towel. “How am I supposed to be angry that you love God more than you love me? How am I supposed to deal with that?” She walked over to her dressing table and picked up her brush.

“What am I supposed to say here?” He stood up from the bed.

“Goodbye’s a good beginning. You say goodbye.” She finished brushing her hair and placed the brush back on the table.

“That’s it?” He put his hands back into his pockets.

“No, that’s not it.” She turned and planted her feet. “You’re a coward Mark Trost. You’re a goddamned coward.”

“Like hell I am!” He fisted his fingers; they remained in his trousers.

“Oh the hell you are!” She physically and verbally advanced. “Oh my God I’ve had this all wrong! You’re using me to cheat on Him! Look. You like to hear the deal? Here’s your deal buster. I won’t call you again. I won’t see you again. I’m not being in this anymore.” A smile strolled over her face. “I never knew a more gifted man. I mean it Mark. It’s obvious. God’s given you everything. Anyone can see that! You just don’t want to give Him everything back! So you commit these little sins and tell yourself you’re just not good enough to actually be something or actually do something. Because you’re afraid. You know the cost is so high. And you’re afraid to pay it.” She sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Wow Mark. I’m so disappointed to find out that you’re this selfish! Wow. I’m just stunned I’ve been so stupid!” More than a few moments of silence passed between them. “Why aren’t you writing Mark?”

“I am writing,” he looked at his shoes.

“No,” she laughed. “No sir!”

“Yeah I have!” He looked up at her. “I’ve written things lately.”

“No. You’ve played. But, you’re not writing.” She reached for a new cigarette. “Lately your writing is ok. But it’s not great. You know that.” She lit the cigarette and took a puff.

“I’ve got too much in my head,” he looked at his feet.

“Bullshit Mark Trost!” She took another puff. “Everyone’s always in your head.” She exhaled. “You say that all the time.” She took another puff. “But the truth is, you never let anyone in your heart.” She exhaled. “Right?”

“Right,” he whispered.

“Are you going to write this?” she asked.

“What? Tonight?” He looked over at her.

“Yeah.” She inhaled.

“No,” he said.

“Why not?” She challenged him as she arched her back on the bed.

“Because it’s private,” he whispered. “It’s us.”

“So what?” She exhaled. “It’s all us! And it’s the truth! Write the truth! Quit wasting your gifts! Aren’t you tired of wasting your gifts Mark? Look how selfish you’re being! It’s the truth! Write the goddamned truth!”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

“Mark, darling, listen to me,” she walked over and sat beside him. She took his hand into hers. “Quit protecting your feet.”

“What?” He looked at her as if she’d gone feeble.

“You always keep one foot out of the circle so you can run away.” She kissed him on his cheek. “Jump in with both feet. You have to. It’s selfish not to.”

“That is one fucked analogy,” he said.

“No, it’s really good.” She smiled. “I’m kind of proud of it!”

“Oh baby,” he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, “what are we going to do?”

“We’re gonna stop being a we.” She took her hand away from his lips. He silently sat. “Would you do something for me Mark?” she pleaded.

“Sure.” He looked at her.

“Next time I call you,” she started crying again, “don’t answer the phone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah baby. Please.”

“Ok,” he whispered. And two weeks later when the phone rang, he kept his word.

A Vision Of Long Division

How can 1 in 7 voters remain undecided so late in the game?

Because they’re afraid. Because they know McCain is too old and Palin is too inexperienced and Obama is too leftist and he leaves too many questions unanswered. Because they know it’s broken and they don’t know how to fix it. Because they stand on the fence with Hell on one side and hopelessness on the other. And they feel if they don’t move they can withstand the wind of uncertainty. And as each accusation whips by in gusts of rhetoric and hate they think, “I’ll stand here and try to withstand.” But they can’t withstand because they feel they have no one to stand with. They feel alone. And so instead of pulling a lever and passing the poll - they pocket their palms and open their ears in the hopes of hearing an echo.

They don’t know where to place the toe. And they can’t toe the line because two many lines have been drawn. And now America is losing ground. Everyone has taken a side. And they’re standing aside and they’re beside themselves with apprehension.

And if they vote in November - they’ll pull themselves together and close their eyes and pull a lever in a polling place where they feel everyone is polar opposites. And they’ll hope to God He’ll show them some kind of hope to hold onto as an anchor to endure.

Did it ever occur to anyone that there wasn’t supposed to be sides in America? We were the United States. How could we take a side against our brethren? Now both sides are uncivil. Jesus, we’re having a vocal uncivil war. And each side refuses to see the other’s side. The lack of civility is more predominant now than in the days of Lincoln. Only now neither side will give a cent for his brother’s thought nor offer consent for the right to hold an opposite opinion. And justice and temperance and tolerance are on the descent. America is dying. And the jackals juggle each other’s jugular for the last piece of peace. They are fighting for the soul of a soulless nation.

I’m undecided. Yet I’m not on anyone’s side. Are you? I stand in front of the offended to defend. I’ll stand aside for the righteous. But I’ll only bend my knee and bow my head to God. And I ask Him to stand beside America and guide her, though the night, with His light from above. “One nation under God indivisible.” America isn’t under God anymore. We’re under siege.

And the undecided are overwhelmed.

Our Civilization Hangs In The Balance

I read with great sorrow this morning of the effigy of Sarah Palin that hangs from Chad Morrisette’s roof in California. I’m a democrat. I can’t comprehend it. Regardless of political ideology, this is inappropriate at best and outrageously vile at worst. This isn’t freedom of speech. I don’t understand a community who would permit this. I don’t understand any ideology that would sanction it. I don’t understand a world that would justify it.

I don’t understand a woman who wouldn’t feel threatened by it. Do you understand that by allowing this - you’re allowing a hierarchy to exist? Any human being who supports it -even as an expression of free speech - is advocating a hierarchy that negates the assertion that all human beings are created equal. You’re saying that the abuse and the denigration of women is permissible in a political context. You’re placing femininity on the lowest rung of society. Like her / hate her - Palin had the freedom of choice. She just made different choices. Morrisette claims that he created this effigy because he’s afraid of the republican ticket. Well, now he’s spread his fear. Palin’s children are afraid. Palin’s daughters have been taught they aren’t allowed to make a choice. The consequences are literally hanging around for any woman to see.

Does anyone else see it? Hey this isn’t politics. Don't tell me politics. Politics is polarization. Please don’t be limited. We’re human beings. This is about human beings. Don’t tell me the rote. This is about humanity people. Has our nation become so polarized that we now permit the pulverization of other people? Jesus, isn’t anyone afraid?

God forgive us for what we’ve done. God forgive us for what we’ve failed to do. And God forgive us for what we’ve allowed.