April 1998 / Volume One / Issue Two
K. Daniel Frye
There are nights.

She double shifts
  Affording herself long nights of numb to the world and "How 'bout another."

Her back straight.. Set upon long, powerful, legs.
  she walks to the jukebox in the corner
  dropping a five on the same song.

She calls once in awhile and reminds me of the monster I was and the monster I am.
  Two sides of a coin, but the same ferocity.

And there are nights.

Shadows entangled on the living room floor..
Up in the morning with a cup of coffee and a nervous walk.

The sunlight rarely shines upon our faces in the same room..

But there are nights.

When the tongue searches for every last drop of her sweat.
The drinks are drank and the dances stumbled..
  And the footsteps lead to the trail of clothing.

She tells me once in a while of her fondness for me.
  And the years that will see our scattered phone calls
                             with tales of battered romance.
  But I silent sit.. My words of emotion leading to blindness are unspoken.. My
tongue is still..
  Until I'm alone and the walls receive my prophetic glimpses into the future in
stuttered tone.
  I tell the cracks in the plaster about her.....They take in my spattering of self-
destructive wisdom.
                             "Yeah she owns a doublewide in this trailer park brain of mine"
  She's carved out a space in my chest just big enough to feel the loss

Sometimes, I wonder if she even exists..
When the credits are rolling and the popcorn spilled between seats.
                                  Can you remember the first scene?

So, I'll wake again, rub the demons from my eyes and turn my head to her red hair.
Lack of words lead to a fumbling for my shirt and a long five step walk to the

A splash of water on my face and the thought rings back of her hair standing on end
and eyes rolled to the back of my head... Quiver of the hips and moist breath around
the aftermath.
                          "Call me perverted, but that's the best part"
She smiles and lays her head back to the pillow...

There are nights.

Bright enough to burn a hole through the heart..

There are nights....
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