red light

When I was eight, my friend told me she knew that ghosts were real because every night in the thick black line of sky above the cane field opposite her house, she saw a red dot of light. “It’s not regular,” she said. “Not like a regular light, but it moves where I move and it kind of hums or buzzes, and when I go get my momma it’s gone. Like, it left.” I asked her how she really knew what it was. She had thought it was an alien, and the light was on their ship “like a headlight.” Her mother didn’t think it was an alien at all; she told her it was the soul of a dead child trapped in a single drop of blood. She made her pray the rosary for it.

Every night since she told me, when I stood alone on the porch after dinner, shaking out the table cloth, I looked for the light. I tried to recreate the moment in my head, the small red dot emerging suddenly out of the night. But I didn’t live in the country and it was not nearly as dark. The sky was a mud brown after sunset. I could see one star, the halo of orange parking lot lights from the grocery store, and the pale head of the water tower which I liked to pretend was the moon. I waited for the red dot. I tried as hard as I could to work myself into fright. But I never saw the light for myself. Until I spent the night at Nick’s.
Nick was my first boyfriend and lived in the deep country in Sunset. I finally had a convincing enough pre-text for spending the night at his house. A party that a lot of people would be at with Nick’s mom as a chaperone. Luckily my dad had never met her. It was New Year’s Eve and surprisingly icy as me, Nick, and Nick’s “cool” mom Sheryl were all sliding into each other in the front seat her pickup truck. “I’m a cool mom,” she said as I sat pressed up against her side inevitably inhaling her spicy body odor and whatever kind of alcohol that was on her breath. “I mean I’m a fucking cool mom, right Nick?” Nick laughed saying “Sheryl, Sheryl,” like a sitcom dad. They passed a cigarette between themselves. I wondered where Nick’s dad was.

“He’s offshore, he’ll call later though; he can’t leave me alone long. I’m fucking crazy. I mean I’m on meds. You can go fucking crazy living in butt fuck Egypt practically by yourself. At least I’ve got Nicky. Oh and call me fucking Sheryl, by the way.”

“Okay, thanks, fucking Sheryl.” I said, feeling suddenly glad to have done my eyeliner in the rear view mirror of dad’s truck while I waited for them in the drive-way. I imagined it made my eyes seem less wide. They laughed and Sheryl took her hand off the wheel and ground her fist into the top of my head. Her cigarette threatening to ignite my hair.

Nick was two years older than me but he was still in homeschool highschool run by his mom. They lived out in the woods with chickens and horses and Nick told me “We can do anything out there. We don’t have neighbors for miles.” I imagined the country with tall itchy grass to run around in and maybe a first kiss under a sky full of clouds, but realistically the drive took two hours and when we pulled up to the house, all I could see was the smoking white gravel in the triangles of yellow light that came from the headlights.

“Where’s everybody else?” I said as the screen door slapped shut behind me. I could see every room of the house from the threshold, all lined up: the 70s kitchen, the living room with a pink couch and a small tv, two bedrooms with their doors open, and two windows on the back walls of the bedrooms and black sky through them.

“One time we went and bought a bunch of rolls of tin foil and covered the entire kitchen in it, like everything, the fridge, and all the appliances. It was like outerspace, it was totally fucking rad, we could do that if you want,” Nick said. Cheryl raised her baggy sweater over her head and threw in onto the floor next to the kitchen table, revealing her black sportsbra.

“I’m hot natured. I mean this shit is nothin’ if you’re from Wisconsin” she said and she moaned and ran her fingers through her hair as she walked into a room off to the right that must’ve been the bathroom. “Gotta take a piss, be right back!”

“Nick, where is everyone else?” I asked punching him lightly in the arm as we stood in his kitchen. He took my fist in his hand and pushed it away.

“Who else do we need?” he said and he began pulling down liquor bottles from on top of the fridge. A fifth of Jack Daniels, José Cuervo, a bottle of Glenfiddich, a bottle of Merlot, and then from the freezer a giant chilly bottle of Absolut. He clanged all the bottles together on the slick vinyl checked cloth that covered their table and stepped back crossing his arms. “Ah!” he said actually snapping his fingers, and he pulled from the fridge two six packs of Natural Light.

“Natty?” he said tossing me a sweating can. I dropped it.

“Shit.” I said fumbling after the can that was rolling away from me on the linoleum. I felt his hand press my bottom and I stood up without getting the beer and looked at him. His eyes were big and honest looking and his face was white and smooth and he reminded me of a boy. That’s how I had always thought of him. But he was something more. My face felt hot and I turned from him and asked if we really could cover the entire kitchen in tin foil.

“Yeah, sure!” he exclaimed, and he wrapped his arms around me from the back and jostled me from side to side.

“Stop it, stop it,” I laughed. I felt my assurance creeping back. He was the same person I knew.

“You’ll want to get a head start on the Natty Light so you don’t feel the burn though,” he said into my ear.

“Jesus, fuck, get a room!” Sheryl swaggered back into the kitchen. I thought that maybe she would have changed clothes but she was still wearing just her sports bra and jeans. She was muscular yet curvaceous with Nick’s brown eyes and she let her long black hair flow down her back. Her tanned knees poked through the holes in her jeans. “Ha! I feel like a Guess! girl,” she said and leaned back over the table flipping her hair back all over the liquor bottles. Nick removed his arms from my waist and crossed them.

“Before Nicky was born and it was just me and Randy out here he put these jeans up on the wall of the barn and shot them through the knees. It was the style! And we didn’t use any pussy BB gun either. A shotgun all the way. We still have it. She reached down and pinched my leg right above the knee. “We could do yours.”

“Aw, you should! You totally should. I’ve seen the pictures of Mom. She was hot!” Nick said.

“Was?” said Sheryl. She reached out to grab Nick. “Come give your hot mom a kiss you little shit!” They chased each other around the table until she caught him and kissed him right on the mouth.

“Blahh!” said Nick mock spitting and gagging.

“Want another?” Sheryl said puckering her lips.

“Jeez mom, you didn’t have to have to stick your tongue in my mouth!” Nick said.

“Oh that’s it! Another!” Sheryl said and started up as if to chase him again. I backed away from the table pressing my hands and butt into the hard edge of the countertop.

“Look Briane’s afraid!” Sheryl said, and began to laugh.
“Naww, she’s just jealous of your supreme hotness,” Nick said.
“Ah, well you’ll grow boobs one day!” she said baring her teeth.
“Haha,” I said.
“I mean look at her Nicky! She’s pretty enough! No, no Bri, you need to learn how to take a compliment. I mean, just think in a few years. Fuckin’ sexy.”
“Fucking right.” Nick said winking at his mom and taking a swig of beer.
“Well thanks ya’ll,” I said. “That’s really fucking nice!”
“Yeah, Briane, you really shouldn’t curse at me. I’m your boyfriend’s mother. It’s extremely rude. And besides those words just don’t sound right coming out of your mouth. It’s pretty ridiculous.”

*
We all sat down at the table. Nick and I each held the bottom of a can of Natty light to our lips where Sheryl had poked a hole. She had chugged half the bottle of Merlot, herself. She counted down from three; we were supposed to snap open the pop-top on “one!’ and nearly drown in a fast stream of beer. Nick said this would be the best way for us to chill out. And bond. “Briane, meet Jack, José and Glen, I believe you and Ms. Natty are already acquainted.”

It was too easy to get here, to this moment with a cold beer pressed against my lips, sucking out the excess air. When I asked dad if I could go over to Nick’s, his eyes went blank and I knew he was trying to remember who he was. If he was a church friend or not.
“He’s a dancer, dad,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” dad said, snapping his finger. I could tell that he didn’t remember. Nick and I had met in dance class. And in the weeks leading up to the “party” we had been smoking cigarettes in the back of the studio. I got it out of the way and told him that my mom died when I was eight. It was that simple and nothing was changed. After I told him we cut class to sneak across the street to the GameStop to play the sample Xbox. It was the most fun I could remember having.

“Well, what are his people like?” I could tell that dad was trying to find out if he was black or Catholic.

“They’re not Catholic dad,” I said and he let out a nervous laugh and said that was not what he was asking about. But had they been to our church? I told him yes. I had no idea what religion his parents were. Nick didn’t believe in God. I didn’t either, though dad didn’t know. The people at the church behind my dad’s back told me that my mom had gone to hell because she didn’t convert from Catholicism. I was never going to see her again. It was all such a load of shit.

“Nick’s dad works offshore and his mom stays at home and tutors him.”

“Oh, that sounds great. And the New Year’s party sounds fun and his mom will be there?”

“Yeah.”

“Well maybe you should go. I kind of have this date that night.”

“Oh, really, who with?” It was as if an alien had landed before me and assumed the form of my father.

“Oh, a lady from church, Joyce. But I don’t really know if I want to go. I mean me and you could both stay home this weekend and made sloppy joes. We could watch It’s a Wonderful Life.”

“No, that’s okay. Dad, you should go.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, go.”

*

The beer rushed down my throat and I almost gagged on it but held it down. Nick immediately poured two shots of Jack which we shot. There was a fire moving down my throat and into my guts. I grabbed the table with both hands. Nick let out a howl.

Cheryl snorted and asked for Nick to light her cigarette while it hung out of her mouth.
Her eyes were bloodshot and her face sort of drooped. “I’m taking this to bed,” wiggling the mostly empty wine bottle in our faces. “Don’t try any shit,” she told me with one of her eyes shut.
“Sheryl,” Nick said rising. “Off you go.”
“Nick, shut the fuck up.” She said pushing his arm away. She stumbled into the living room and leaned up against the couch. I didn’t realize she was that drunk. “Nicky is my baby, shut up. My baby and my soul mate. No. Listen, you sleep in there” she said pointing to the bedroom on the right. “and have a happy fucking New Year.” Nick grabbed her under her arm and led her into the bedroom on the left. She collapsed onto the unmade bed, giggling and pulling at Nick’s arms, “You’re strong Nicky. You’re a strong man. Come on Nicky, come on,” she said. He looked at me through the open door. Then she started crying and saying his name over and over.
“Sheryl, let me go get your medication,” he said but she kept pulling at his shoulder and crying into his hair. “Jesus, Sheryl let me go. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Look, let me just go, I’ll be right back. Jesus Christ. Mom! Let go of me!” he yelled standing back.
“Don’t fucking call me that!” she screamed. “Nick!”
He came out of the room quickly and half closed the door behind him. I thought that maybe he would apologize or explain. But he just cursed and went to the bathroom and flung open the medicine cabinet. When he came out with a pill bottle he said, “look, I can’t just leave her in there, but go wait outside and I’ll come through the window. She would hear the door. She always leaves the window open.” He didn’t say anything else before vanishing into Sheryl’s room and shutting the door. I could hear his voice speaking low over her sobbing.
It was cold in their living room. The warmth from the whiskey was leaving me. I walked up to the screen door and looked out. The night was pitch. I couldn’t see any moon. Sheryl had a big orange rotary phone to match her 70s kitchen. I wondered if dad was still out on his date. Or if he had even gone. He was probably asleep by now with a thin pillow curled over her ears. There was too much to say. I didn’t call him.

*
The night smelled like cold and static. My hairs stood up. I held the fifth of Jack up to my lips and took a swig. It tasted terrible. It tasted like how gasoline smelt. I was crying without sobbing. The tears were just finding their way down my face. I could barely feel them, my face was numb in the wind. I stood by the truck, leaning up against it. I looked at the half dark house. I could have gone and hid under Sheryl’s window so that I could hear her and Nick. But I didn’t go. Somehow I still wanted Sheryl to like me. I still wanted Nick to like me. And I couldn’t make myself not like them. It made me feel stupid, so, I called myself stupid under my breath and took another pull. That made me feel better. I got warmer and more optimistic. The stars were smiling and winking at me. I had never seen so many of them. I felt like their child.
When Nick finally came out I felt a big smile on my face despite my tears.
“I want to run,” I told him and took off. It was like dream running, my feet barely touched the ground and I felt nothing but good.

When he caught up with me, I didn’t feel like stopping so I kept on as best I could on my fluttering legs until he tackled me to the ground.
“You’re crazy,” he said. Then he smiled. And I thought that this was it. It was the time to be kissed. He was lying on top of me. He didn’t lean over to kiss me. I felt his hand fumbling with his pants. Please not like this, I thought as I looked up into the sky. The stars no longer smiled.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Nick yelled and he got up stepping on my hand. Smoke was coming out of Sheryl’s window in a steady column. Another window shattered. He ran toward the house. It was burning. I lied there on the hard ground and tried to feel my limbs which had gone numb from the cold and alcohol. That’s when I saw it. Hovering over the line of trees in the direction of the road. The red light. It buzzed and popped. I stood up and somehow my legs settled under my weight. The light was gone. But then it shot back up. My red light.

I followed it until the sky was lost in smoke.

3 Month Old Corpses

[1]

His member in hand

that color that women think passes for blonde
A smashing good time, kicked in the teeth!
and then mistaking a young boy for a housewife

whose brain exploded from a lack of self-improvement
efforts (but on the contrary:

I’ve seen some cunts in my day…
down by the delicatessen

Never forgotten, clung to like teeth those
dirty skanks, those skanking cry-mores
yet George W. was a shoe-in, despite being Hitler’s excrement simulacrum
. they forgot me They forgot ME!
our total apologies for smearing your feelings on the walls
of this cream-colored restroom
Where is I? Dad? They are just beginning to
become people
the dripping of
It’s so quaint
lost in oblivion, mass-produced cephalic carnage
and,
egoless as a belfry spirit, a humming cloud) but, alas, also:

stew-pud, this
a sniveling child has more taste than

humanity. So well led and
kicked the martians in the nutsacks
fractal .

[2]

quicksilver panes gentle and
for those of you with fingers!
like giant archeological digs, bones exposed, bleached
and passing out

the wind

there’s that crazy fog!
ziggurats in every tear duct

again needling you. AGAIN asking

some people are as useful as a spinal tap for nerve damage

vibrato, In sotto voce
it is rather strange to see the pilot in the aisle…
portent

put a finger in
loose feeling

it’s not safe here. let’s go north where

headache crunchers

where no one is claustrophobic

a new set every year
indecent as mallets

is it possible they’ve infiltrated already?
caressing each other’s under carriage
scumbags!

Dinner for 7: A Conversation With Five Obstructions

First interpretation:

I saw the lower bayou lafourche as a land of faith, not necessarily a faith practiced in stone buildings with proximity to alters. This place is woven with a faith in the decaying infrastructure. Faith that bridges, levees, locks, and structures will survive the constant world around it. The land is disappearing. People are not.

Horizons

I rendered these observations with watercolor painted from memory. At each memory I was at a different hight(which will push the the horizon line further for the observer). Each is also from a different point along highway 1, therefore trying to cover as much of lower lafourche as possible in my first visit.