Patrick in The Rain

Man, what a look.

That way you came into the bar, every head giving you the up and down.

Torn jeans, a funny shirt. Tattoos. A Raven on the right arm, with a Bible verse reference from Job underneath.

Shaved head, but that facial hair...coiffed to the umpth degree of BadAss.

And you had a name.

And were fun.

A true Bisexual...

A possible still married-to Wife?

A teen boy (18) in college...

A "...beautiful wife. Man, I'm so lucky." You said.

All the while an occasional grab of my knee...

I turned to greet a new patron and soon had an arm around me...

"you...are so handsome," he said.

I gave him the sign of Jesus, (Index finger/Thumb up...the first 3 fingers down) which actually meant "Back Off".

"Man, uh...you're too close." I said. I really wanted to run in abandon with it and lie about being married.

Although, since he didn't ask, and I thought he still might be married...I didn't admit anything.

Neither did he.

We spoke for a long time. He owns 2 cats, a dog...a Mut...stupid names like Barney, Benny and Buddy.

This made him laugh, and it was so real.

"You have the most beautiful eyes," he said. This made me want to shrink away and leave.

It used to be that my eyes were not so bright(and I know my thoughts so wide) however, I said "...really? Yours are a great brown. And they are beautiful as well."

I drank up quickly, knowing that I was getting myself into trouble, (but at the same time in ecstasy over anyone who would be attracted, especially a bisexual, after all these years of being married---it just doesn't happen like it used to happen...like I dream on occasion that it will happen).

I drank up.

"You on Facebook?"

"No"

"You on any email?"

"No." quite possibly the biggest lie of the century ...Baby.

"I hope to see you around then." I put my arm across his shoulder.

He was warm enough. Maybe not warm enough to warm me, but he sure set my temporary soul aflame.

Outside it was pouring a rain, and the town needed that rain.

I disappeared into it...thinking about him.

Speaking to a Wall by Sam Myrick

I wish that I could tell you
what a fuckoff you are.
you say things with a sincerity
about as valid as a politician's
you'll play the bigger person card
because outwardly you are
but when evidence is piling up
you're sleeping in your car
I wish that I could tell you
I'm fine with where we're at
where we've been
and where we may or may not go
but your true colours keep showing
and you'll pick a wound, instead of make it clean
you'll play your games like a prepubescent girl
daffodils and daisies, still just aren't my fill.
I wish that I could tell you
I'm over it today.
But the way things keep on going
I just hurt because you
can't keep your stories straight.