nothing does man fear
more than fear
he loathes
no other contaminant
half as much
for it leaves
the birther
and child,
one and the same
deeper in sadness
yet grimly
thereby justified
for having given
vacant gazes
unasked for
to the fearer
of his own fear
he gives plea to a mercy
he’s never believed in
pushing false energies
as if paying homage
to ghosts
yet he is ever
in such a task
as escaping
the hollowed hole
his eyes
balled tight,
never quite rolled
away from the one
just met
and fed
less than well
who, truly
having then met fear
becomes fear
blackened brothers
then they are
for having joined
a stranger’s moment
of buried nothingness
facing each
they fear
their own de-facing
of a better face
to coddle demise
believed in
only in shrouds
as if each believed
their own face
too unhandsome
to blink with
to part the dirt
on the way down
before introductions
even whisperless,
each separate each
finally and cold
holes away
from each

Published in: on September 29, 2010 at 5:03 am  Leave a Comment  

The Overshoot

Ronald Kranski sat a table at his coffee house next to an outlet where he could plug in his computer. He had his book open to the Pequot Massacre. His hair was rumpled up from his hand running through it over a hundred times that night. He was tired. He had studied for this test for three days already and wasn’t nearly done. It was the most important test of the semester.

As he read, a man came down the aisle toward him. Ronald quickly glanced up and then back down. You may pass, he thought. The man was disheveled, a grey sport coat that was soiled. A tie, checkered. Perhaps he was a professor, but in all probability he was one of the crazies that roamed the streets around the university. He pulled in tighter as the dark ship passed. But it didn’t.

“It’s the overshoot.” The man had just stopped right there. Ronald looked up and saw a scraggly philosopher. He knew he was a philosopher. He called them philosophers. The last philosopher he spoke to had admitted that the CIA was hot on his trail. Another philosopher. Oh, God.

“It’s the times when you go over the end of the tunnel or the end of the cliff or whatever and it happens. It’s the overshoot, man, when you’ve got nothing inside of you but you go over anyway. You must think I’m crazy, like I know what “it” is, this thing, this thing that is always there, the moments. Then you’re alone, man, but you’re in the world, but not in the world, the way that we all are, really, that stuff we try and drown out, the invisible swirling oceans we’ve got inside of us, the unknown and unnamed seas that we think that if we could only name we could float upon and not fall over and out and down.”
“Hey, man, please, I really need to study, “ Ronald said.
“You need to study?”

The man actually looked a little angry. It confused Ronald. Ronald didn’t know why the man was talking to him. He was grungy, dirty, his face marked with lines like a wooden cutting board or a crumpled lunch bag, his hair thick as strings, gray and black, a hooked nose, black glasses that covered only slightly an earnestness that exasperated Ronald from the moment the man opened his mouth. His test was in two days and he had no time to spare. Could you ever find peace?

“You know what I mean? Over and out. But nobody is telling us nothing about what it is that we’ve got going on inside of us. How could anybody? If they do they’re making money or they’re trying to figure it out for themselves. They get fast cars and their wieners grow large and they think that’s it. So they tell us, get your souped up Chevy and take it for a joyride and you’ll know what “its” all about. Or they’ve got a big book binge going on and they’re going to let you know that Freud said this or Freud said that, but you know they can only tell you that because their belly is full of Chardonnay and raw French steak. They can’t tell you nothing.”

Ronald definitely didn’t need this. Ahmadinejad was screwing shit up again. Sarah Palin was ever calling her soccer moms to arms and their men were following because they didn’t want to lose the sex. In the 1630s the Puritans slaughtered the Pequots of Connecticut and almost wiped them out for good. People hadn’t changed and now this, this guy, sitting there telling him this same old shit from the same old store of used up loser thoughts that Ronald ever tried to escape. Everywhere he went there was another and another and another. Always another wordy answer man waiting to take up his precious airspace. This exam was huge, Colonial history in America. It would be a bitch and he didn’t need this. He didn’t Need this.

“Yeah, so what’s your point?” said Ronald, kicking himself instantly. It was 9:25 and he only had 35 minutes left before they kicked him out of the damned coffee shop.
“Well, this, young man.” The man took the response as an invitation to sit in the chair across from Ronald. “You don’t know shit! Excuse my French.”

The French. The French! Ronald thought. He would have to get back to the French too.

“That….book, you got there. What’s in there? Let me see…
He tried to turn Ronald’s book around.
“Hey, hey!
“Well, whatever you got in that book, look, it’s not going to stay in there.” The man, about sixty, pointed to his temple. “It’s in here and then it’s out here.” He pointed to his ass.
“Look Mr. I don’t think you’re right about that. I’ve put so much of this in my mind over the last few years that they’re going to give me a piece of paper proving that it’s in there. They’re going to stand me up on a platform and a genius in a robe is going to hand it to me and it’s going to be my proof. Then employers are going to look at it and it’s going to prove it to them too. Everybody’s going to know that it’s still in there. Please, will you just go back over there?”

The man just stared at Ronald. It wasn’t a hurt stare as much as a stare of disbelief that somebody would question his wisdom. His crooked, grey teeth poked out at him from a tilted smile that Ronald could see was definitely going to let him hold on to this thing that he was trying to do to him. Ronald didn’t feel like being mad.

“Look, I’ll let you go. I’m just passing through here anyway. I’ve got me a business in Lisbon, Spain and it’s going through the roof. It’s in the mental arts. You don’t know what that is. Well, it’s not that.” He points at the book. “It’s not in your words, your knowledge that you think you’re getting from it. It’s from the all-knowing wisdom factory that you’ve got up here. “ He points to his head. “That’s connected to this here.” He points to his heart. “ And comes from everywhere.” He runs his hands around his whole body as if outlining his aura.
“New Age,” Ronald said simply. “And Lisbon is in Portugal.” Christ! Even he couldn’t let this just die.
“Not new age. Not exactly.”

He moves in a little closer. The snake in the man was getting closer and Ronald wasn’t going to push him away just yet for fear of getting bit.

“It’s New Mind.”

Ronald involuntarily rolled his eyes. Great. The snake recoiled. The man leaned back a little bit. He’d thrown his pitch. A ball.

“You’ve got a mind,” the man continued. “ In that mind is a lot of stuff. In that stuff is everything you ever experienced. I’m not talking about actions. I’m talking about emotions: love, hate, envy, greed, goodness, love.
“You said that.”
“Yeah, I’ll say it again because it’s a big one. Love is a big one because we think that it has to come from outside of ourselves, from a pretty little thing, and that’s where we get lost. We don’t need to have love from others to feel love for ourselves.”
“Not new age,” Ronald said.
“No! What’s new age? Look, there is you and there is me and…
“No you look, I’ve got to study.”
“What are you studying?”
“I’m studying the massacre of the Pequot by the Puritans in the 1600s.”
“The Pequots?”
“Indians. They killed all the Indians because….” He stopped. He really didn’t know why, not really. That’s what Ronald was really thinking about before the man interrupted him.
“They killed the Pequots because it’s in their nature to do so, “ the crazy man said.
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s in man’s nature to take what he wants.”
“And you say that it don’t matter what’s in here all swirling around all nameless like I’m saying? You say that it doesn’t matter that you are going toward the outer region every day of your life and when you come to that cliff that you better be able to fly or else you will flail all the way down to the bottom and will grab anything (or anybody) you can to break your fall. You’d take your own mother down with you if you thought it was going to keep you from hitting the bottom. That’s what they did, isn’t it? They picked on people easily picked on to get further ahead. Great warriors for God, I imagine. You’re talking about the Puritans.”

The man lowered his eyes and searched the table for something, some formerly forgotten roadblock to his understanding from the past.

“Yeah, sure, the Puritans,” the man continued. “The Goddamn Puritans. Not so pure the Puritans. Still got ‘em today for sure. Still on their rampage in the name of God. Christian Puritans. Muslim Puritans. Doesn’t matter. They’re the holy ones, but really they’re the most afraid. They’re the ones who won’t listen to what I have to say. They won’t listen to me when I tell them that they’ve got a wild storm going on inside of them that they got to ride through or they will go over the edge of everything and take everybody with them. Then there’s people like you who don’t believe in the invisible and you stuff everything in your head for God knows what reason, but it doesn’t help you. You’re not strong enough to do anything about what the dummies of the world are working for night and day, even in their dreams. You’ve got nothing but a few dumb words on the page about some Indians and Puritans and that’s all. You got nothing at all about the fact that you’re a monster and you don’t even know it!
“I’m a monster?”
“You’re a monster.”
“A monster monster?
“A monster monster. If you’re unconscious. It’ll suck you down the moment you get weak. Then you’ll take others down with you and then those others will take others down and then you’ll have your history, all the history that you need from any book. All these history books are documents of the ways that people were so unconscious that they chain- reacted their lost-ness all the way across society. The blind leading the blind…and we’ll all go down together…”

He actually sang this last bit loudly and an old couple just across the way looked up from their meal and stared. Ronald smiled at them embarrassedly.

True, true, true, Ronald thought, true all of that. But you can’t leave out the particulars. Got to keep moving with the facts. He felt an uneasiness, that same uneasiness he felt when he thought in class that he was missing something, missing some crucial point that mattered. This old man was going there, but it made him feel weak. If he gave in to the man’s ideas he would be the man’s victim somehow, that really the man was just shrewder than he was and that he’d better be careful on these craggy peaks.

“You’re still not saying anything, Mr., You’ve got nothing to give me here. I know that man is shit to man, always has been, but you’re pointing me to some nebulous shit and I don’t need it, okay? I can’t see me and you can’t see you. Nobody sees themselves yet we all stand up for who we are. True. That’s true. We can only guess about the reasons we’re making our decisions or what we believe in and all that. But we can be on top of things. We’re not all lost in a cloud of unknowing like you say and sometimes what we see is what there is. A lot of times it is what it is and that’s it.”

Ronald already felt defeated just by falling into the discussion. He had been on a track and he needed to circle the truth ten thousand more times to eventually get to a morsel and know it as truth. He was prepared to stay on that track until he had all the sustenance that he needed. He wasn’t just going to jump off the rails and stand firm that everything was bullshit because everything was bullshit.

“You’re not hearing what I’m saying,” said the man.

Oh, Christ. Great. Complete failure of understanding. Now, daddy, tell me what it is I need to know.

“Dude…” Ronald said.
“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone. I can see that I’m upsetting you, but let me finish. There is an answer. No, listen to me, don’t huffaw like that, listen to me, son, listen to me!”

He grabbed Ronald’s arm forcefully. Ronald pulled back from his rebellious stance. The man was serious. Saliva dripped from the side of this maniac’s mouth.

“Now, listen to me! You are going to face great trials. One day something will go wrong. Things won’t ever be the same after some of these things and you’re going to have to deal with them. You’re young yet, you don’t know, but I do. Something will happen. Something major. Major things happen to all of us and they have happened to me and I want to tell you what you’re in for, but you’ve got to take me seriously for just a minute. Okay?”

Ronald nodded unintentionally, nodded to the angst in the man’s eyes if nothing else.

“Now, you’ve got an ocean inside of you as do I. You’ve got no way of ever knowing the breadth of that ocean. It’s too big. It’s you. Do you see? Don’t ever think that you can know the scope of who and what you are. It’s too vast. It’s too deep. But you’ve got to make it anyway. You can drown at anytime.
Now listen, when you feel that you know something remember, just remember, that you don’t know all of it. You don’t know what you think you know because you’re just coming at it from one angle. There’s a million angles and not all of them are coming from you. A lot of them are coming from others or others before them or others before them. Society, belief systems, everything, but at some point you’ve got to know about something that you got inside of you and it’s this: you’ve got a core. That’s right. You’ve got a middle, a center, a place where you can’t be pushed any further, where even confusion can’t go. You’ll have been through too much by the time you find this core of yours. It’s really something that we don’t want to have to know about. We all wish that we could always just live right from this core like we did when we were children, but we can’t, not when the world has taken a hold of you and taught you a few things about human nature and this goddamned world. You’ll be sent sailing on that stormy sea and you’ll be looking for a port and it’s your core that you’re looking for. Dry land. And it’s in you. It’s always there, it’s just that, well, we’re all lost at sea sometimes and you can test the winds and all that (he points at the book), you can throw Jonah over the side and have an argument with God or whatever, but you’re not on dry land until you’re on dry land and you can get to that because its there, right now, its right there, there!”

At that the old man leaned forward and slapped Ronald hard on the chest. Ronald was in shock so said nothing. He wondered whether he’d been assaulted. The man got up from the chair he had never been invited to sit in and walked to the exit without as much as a nod of goodbye.

Ronald watched him go through the glass door and saw that the man had kept a shopping cart outside and it was filled with odds and ends. He was your average bum. Ronald put his index finger to his lip and looked down at the book. Word after word after word. Each word pointed toward something else, some other fact, some other monstrous fact which led to a monstrous idea, each large enough for its own book. It seemed the more that he learned the more there was to learn. It grew exponentially this thing. It was an ocean, just like the man said, and he was on it, but the waters were as yet serene and he was as yet able to believe that he would sail smoothly through it for the rest of his life, pick up his treasure where he may, and live happily forever after and onward.

But there was the idea still of the ending point, the end of the world, the place where the waters fell down the sides of a flat earth into an eternal void where nothing could rescue him. It was what he didn’t know, and was he fooling himself in thinking he ever could?

Ronald closed the book and found himself staring at the old couple sitting in front of him. Neither of them spoke. They just sat there, one looking a little this way and the other looking a little that. Their eyes were flat and peaceful in a way, but blind too, as though something had been cut off from the inside. He wondered if they had fallen off the side of the world, had overshot their boundaries and didn’t know how to get back. This time he did not dismiss it. He did not retreat into the luxury of his youth. This time he held inside their vacant gazes and allowed them to teach him something, something, something utterly nebulous that perhaps a book, he realized, would never be able to do.

Published in: on September 26, 2010 at 6:06 pm  Leave a Comment  

Henry Mills Diary – Book One

First Entry – September 1876

The sun is over the valley below. We here on the mountain have it better than the rest of them, I think. Being up here all the time in the cool fall air of Tennessee. Got me a real-live town building up down there. Built that school and the store and the restaurant and the hotel. Got all kinds of people coming in now and buying up what’s left of the land. Letting it go where I think it’s a good thing to be let go. I like a lot of the people. After the war people needed new and good and they were happy that I’d paved the way. They saw what I saw, that the madness didn’t have to be here forever. Named the place Millsville at the urging of Mary who says she is so proud of me and that she couldn’t have done better in a husband than she’s done in me. God, I love that girl. Why she said yes I’ll never know. She wasn’t after my money. She loves me. It’s in her eyes when she looks at me. She is the dream I’ve always dreamed after and now all the working and saving and being smart in the business world has paid off and we’re well off, got a town named after my family starting down there and we live up here on this mountain with our chickens and our mules and sheep and garden and Mary takes care of them most and she paints and sews and cooks and cleans even though I could hire someone right out to take care of everything. Our livelihood isn’t gotten from up here, but down there. I’m pulling in more from that restaurant alone than I need to live on. I tell Mary I’m taking her to Paris, France and London, England and she tells me to be silent, that she doesn’t need that fancy sort of life, that she’s got her morning walks in the woods and her artistic endeavors and, I can see it, she’s got that gleam in her eye. She wants to have a baby. God it feels good. Everything’s turned out right. And I never stole anything to get us where we are today. Right living and good, sound business practices and everybody trusted me. Now they love me, love us, love Mary. Everybody loves Mary, the way she walks and how beautiful she is. I can’t help but thinking that we’re the king and queen of the whole valley. We’re everything two married people dream of being, except that one thing about having a baby, but that won’t be too long. Mary is simply the love of my life and I am the happiest man on the planet. Mary said I should write this diary like a book so that people in the future can understand the context. She’s also a literary genius and has a book of her own full of poems. I do feel a little stupid writing it like that since I know everything all the time, but I’ll try not to forget about the future people and tell this like a story that I don’t know. Maybe me and the future will learn a few things about what I think I know, but didn’t really know, by following this process of Mary’s. She calls me Nathaniel Hawthorne. She calls me smart. She says I’m a man of importance. God, I love that girl. Don’t laugh people of the future. I’m just a man in love. Goodbye for now, Diary.

Published in: on September 19, 2010 at 8:52 pm  Leave a Comment  

Nobody Hit Harry

Harry Blankenfeld sat on the ground in the middle of the street and waited for the cars to come and run him over. The light had turned green and one by one they went around him. Jerry had come out of his office just a moment after Harry sat down in the road. He saw Harry and went to the side of the road and motioned for his attention.

-Hey, Harry, what are you doing?
-I’m sitting in the road waiting for a car to run over me.
-Why are you doing that?
-Well, you know what, Jerry, it’s not all that easy to say, but I can tell you this: life sucks.
-Fair enough. Why does it suck? Hey, Harry, some more cars are coming.
-Excuse me.

They stayed silent as the cars roared toward Harry. One by one the cars swerved around him. None of them stopped.

-Anyway, Harry said.
-Yeah, anyway. Look, Harry, why don’t you come to the side of the road. You don’t want to do this.
-No, I do. I do.
-But why?
-You really want me to explain?
-Yeah, Harry, I’m the guy whose gonna have to scrape you up.
-Okay, then if you’re the guy whose gonna have to do that then I may as well tell you my story.
-Thanks. Hey, Harry, the light has turned green.
-Excuse me.

The cars once more swerved around Harry one by one. A couple of people honked this time, but nobody stopped.

-See, Harry, nobody is going to run you over anyway. It’s easy to avoid somebody in the road. I do it all the time. It’s easy.
-I’ll keep trying, anyway.
-The police are going to come for you.
-Then I better be quick, I guess.
Jerry nodded and gulped. He was getting really nervous as this situation truly sunk into him.
-Jerry, you’re an alright guy. You’ve always been good to me, but the rest of you…are shit! Shit! You see, I’ve got it all figured out. It goes like this. You’re born, right? You’re born and then you’re a kid. Everything is good so far, right? Then you’re a teenager and a young adult and then a real adult and then this portion of the show goes on a little longer and a little longer and then a little longer until you run out of portions of the show. You’re always an adult. In the meantime everybody is either new to the process or just like you, in it for a while. It’s when they’ve been in it for a while that it starts to hurt. People don’t care, Jerry! People don’t give a shit! So you always have to be on your guard. You say the slightest thing wrong and everybody is suddenly Steven fucking Seagal. They’re samurai! They’re suddenly out to prove something because, oh, you expressed your opinion or you asked for something. They’re fucking samurai! That’s because they’re so little. They’re peas. Little peas that don’t know that they’re peas. They’ve been shit on too. Everybody has been shit on and they don’t know that they’ve been shit on. So what they do is this, they take that pain of having been shit on, remember it real good, and then when they get the opportunity, you know, someone doesn’t do something they want, anything, any tiny little thing, they shit on you. Get it? Since everybody has been shit on they all go on to shit on everybody else and the ones they shit on are the ones easiest to shit on, the nice guys, the guys who don’t ask much out of life, but when they do, oh boy, watch out. Fucking Hitler is in the room for these guys and let the shitting begin boy. Wonderful way to steal shit. Believe that you are being attacked over some tiny detail and go all the way. Fuck like a fucking Mongol. Well, I’m tired of it, Jerry. I’m not going back to the office to let those people shit on me. Those people. These people in the cars, they can have me. Just take me once and for all. So I quit.
-You quit? You can’t quit. You only have a few years left till retirement.
-Jesus Christ.
-Harry, the light turned green.
-Excuse me.

The cars once more roared by Harry. A couple of more honks, but nobody hit him.

-This isn’t going to work out for you, Harry. Nobody wants to run over a guy in the street.
-Oh, yeah, they do. I’ll get one. Maybe one out of ten would see this as the opportunity of a lifetime. You see, they shit on all the little things. Get all the little perks from shitting on little people for little things all the time, you know, save money here, save money there. They’re always looking for ways to steal a little bit more to maybe get a little more ahead in this RATRACE we call life. It’s the perfect opportunity for someone. He’ll come along. Or she. Doesn’t matter. At least one in ten are looking for the perfect opportunity to take that all encompassing shit.

Jerry didn’t know much what to say so he said nothing and just tried to look sympathetic. Harry got the look and almost stood up, but instead, his arms and torso just sunk deeper into the road.

-Look, Jerry, I know. I know. This is stupid. I should get up and just go back to the office. But you know what? I kind of like it out here.
-You’re getting your clothes dirty.
-Let me have this, okay Jerry? Just let me have this.
-Alright…the light just turned green.
-Excuse me.

Once again, nobody hit Harry.

-It’s competition, do you see? It’s all of the competition. Everybody is screaming about socialism because it is against the American way, the human way. Human nature tells us to kill each other so that we don’t have any competition for our food and women and all that. Jerry, we’re dealing with animals here. Do you see? Look at me. I’m wearing this fucking suit. Look at this tie. And I’m a FUCKING ANIMAL! An animal. I defy you to prove me wrong. But we’re not honest animals. We’re fake, pseudo animals that like to kill each other slowly for the most part. We’re evil animals. We fuck each other strategically. The end result is the same: to destroy the competition. And us guys, us nice guys who thought that we weren’t animals, who are we? Well, we’re the food. We’re the fucking prey, Jerry. We’re very accommodating. We seek peace and solutions and the liars toy with us until we’ve given them everything they wanted to steal and once they have that they let us go. If we don’t give it they attack. It’s the American way, Jerry, and I’m done. Fuck America.

Suddenly Harry got to his feet.

-Fuck America.

He had a strange look in his eyes. Suddenly both hands shot out like flagpoles. Intensely true fuck you birds extended with every ounce of Harry’s strength. He started turning in circles as he fucked off the world.

-Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America!
-Harry, just come back to the side of the road.

The cars were coming. Harry had gone mad.

-Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America! Fuck America!

The cars whizzed past him. Nobody hit him. Jerry went to Harry and first touched one arm and brought it down and then the other. Harry let him, slowly waking up. Jerry gave Harry the only real hug he had received in 12 years.

-C’mon, man, let’s go. Fuck America. Let’s just go down to C.J. Murphy’s and get a beer. I’ll call in and tell them you got sick. Fuck work. Fuck America, man. Let’s go.

Jerry led him by the arm and Harry let him. He would let somebody control his life this one more time.

Published in: on September 8, 2010 at 5:18 pm  Leave a Comment  


ken talley, fort worth, TX–22 years for being a drug addict

failing flip flopper, just human, I guess, after all.

We’re all just human. Get over it.


human center of time and life

mixed messages


and if the night runs over

and if the day won’t waaa

and if the wave should falter
along the stony

and if the night runs over

and if the day won’t last

and if your way should falter

on that stony path

it’s time to pass


Published in: on September 7, 2010 at 3:40 pm  Leave a Comment  

The Fall – Jed

The walk in the woods with my brother and his friend was anything but pleasant. I don’t remember what I hated about it most. Probably just feeling lost all the time. Good thing we understand that our mule did it so we should be able to too. So we all saw how tough a mule can really be and of course we all know, because a mule will just keep walking until he’s home. That’s it. That’s what mules do. They don’t stop walking.

I remember when I was in Michigan walking to the Applethorpes house a long time ago, too long it seems now. That was when, oh well, it doesn’t matter what happened then. What matters was that that walk in the woods with Albert and Dink and really, mostly, with Teardrop, made me think about what’s real and what’s not.

I think about the pain on the face of a family in Tennessee just like I see face in the pain of a family in Michigan and Teardrop saw pain in the face of his family, us, waiting for him, sad until he got home. We were worried, truly worried that something dreadful had happened to the mule and most of all it was me and Moxy looking at ourselves and thinking “what if our stupidity kills that mule” and our too intelligent daughter Minnie, only two, learns he is dead and we’re all funny and guilty about it?

That first lie would kill us, would break our hearts and we knew it so we searched for that mule but we didn’t expect him to come up the side that he did. Didn’t even begin to think so, but after climbing around enough we found it, a stone that was actually the dried mud cake of a mule’s shit. From there we just went up wherever we could.

Dink had climbing shit. Exactly that. His ropes were tangled and weak. He didn’t know how to climb but just acted like he did. I wanted the rope and he wouldn’t give it to me because what he wore was all one piece and he needed it about him. It was his armor. I could see that so I let it go.

I wasn’t planning on having a difficult time of this climb. I would go around if I had to, do anything but face the mountain head on. I was wrong. I learned to climb because if I hadn’t in a few situations I would have stayed on that mountain forever or until the helicopter finally come and picked me up which I’m sure it would have after a day or two when the others got back down. But when Dink actually got a hold of that rope like he did just when I started falling and he got it around my neck and pulled I looked up at him and wondered for a moment whether or not God Himself had always been a horrible, horrible lie.

I wrestled the rope up around my chin, my mouth clamped shut, Dink just looked down at me with his teeth grinning, holding on by a sliver of stone on the right side of his right shoe and the left side of his left shoe. I didn’t know males could do that, and he pulled. He pulled. And he pulled and I don’t know how he was standing there, frankly.

It was as though he were standing upright on the side of the mountain, then I saw it, Albert right above his left shoulder, face down, with his teeth clenched as blood slowly began to trickle out of Dink’s shoulder and into his shirt and that’s when I noticed the silver flash of the knife that Albert had sent all the way through.

I’d managed to secure the rope around my chin. I just clenched my jaw. My arms were stuck slightly in two cracks and the rest was just pretty much down. But Dink saw immediately and lowered what he later called his “Emergency Lasso.” He liked to keep it handy to tie around trees. We got in a fight. Albert called me an asshole and Dink…then Albert pulled us in. He fastened that knife right through his best friend’s shoulder to save me. He was probably hoping to find bone to make sure it was secure then all Dink would have to do is balance his legs. I realized Dink had got me, but he too was going over and down for good and then I realized Albert had saved me again and I thanked God for kin.

Published in: on September 3, 2010 at 3:55 pm  Leave a Comment