the cowboy

It was pouring down rain, and I needed a drink.

Couldn’t remember the last time I had one. I was soaking wet, and had been wearing the same blue jeans for way too long, but right now the drink was more important.
I wandered into the VFW Hall, it was small and smoky, but they served stiff drinks, and free, for me anyway. Besides, I liked hanging out with those rough ol guys, their faces weathered and voices low. They all knew about something I didn’t, which was a mystery that I liked. I wanted to know about the things they’d seen. ‘No pain, no gain’ was usually my mantra, and these guys were vets.
Everyone turned as I walked through the door. It was always that way. It drove me crazy. I always wanted to know just exactly what they were looking at, what they were all really thinking as they sat there, jaws dropped. Much of the time I noticed they fixated on my chest, yes that area where my daddy used to say I had two ‘mosquito bites’. Gross. Nowadays they were much bigger than that.
Other times they gave me the ol up and down before finally settling on my face, and staying there. I could hear Jim Morrison singing on the jukebox…Jim made me feel hot. I walked in the bathroom past the hoots and hollers, laughed and told the boys to settle down. (It was the wet shirt.) I tried to dry off under the hand dryer, I must have pushed the button about ten times before I was satisfied. I walked out and there were three shots already waiting for me at the bar. I took them in steadily, one after another, the fire replacing the wet sorrow in my heart.
I grabbed the nearest pool cue and began sizing up the crowd. There were a lot of new faces. I guess I hadn’t been out in while.
“Haven’t seen you forever, girl,” and felt someone slide a warm arm around my shoulder. It was Eric. He looked unhealthy, but Eric was a junkie, so that was typical, I remembered. His eyes were always the same, blue and deep and sad and lost. He wasn’t my lover, but I loved him. And Eric could play a mean guitar. He agreed to shoot a game with me, so we grabbed a table and I let him have the first shot. He knew I was good, but I hadn’t played in a while so my game was a little rusty. Plus my heart and head were feeling a bit sore. Good thing the liquor took the edge off. I could feel the warm liquid glow inside my mind, spreading. Tequila made me want to touch everybody. Fuck em or fight em. I didn’t care which, as long as somebody fueled my flame. I would’ve taken Eric home except for that I worried about him too much. I think I’d break him in half, or give him a heart attack. Plus, it was good to have friends you didn’t fuck, I suppose.
An old guy in a cowboy hat wandered up and asked if he could play the winner. I shrugged, Eric agreed, and I sunk the last few balls, told the ol guy to grab a stick and hold onto his hat. Actually, as I looked him over, I realized that he didn’t look like somebody who was from around here, with the cowboy getup and all. And he wasn’t bad looking, I’d even venture to say he was sexy, in wholesome sort of way. I needed to grab another shot, so I told him to rack, and asked him what he drank. He handed me a hundred bucks and told me to go get him a rum and coke, and something for myself. I looked at the bill, stuck it in my boot, and got our drinks for free.
I was hungry. I couldn’t remember my last meal, but it must have been days. And it seemed like my tolerance for the alcohol had gone down. I was woozy. Kinda shaky. I figured I probably had a gnarly blackout or something. I had those a lot. I’d forget almost everything from the night before. Just these blank fucking empty spaces. In time. In my mind.

I’d have a vague recollection of the atmosphere, of the man I was with. I’d look over and here the music still playing, witness the stranger in my bed. That I put there. I’d wonder who I was, and then decide not to care. Once in a long while I’d think maybe I’d found ‘the guy’. Not in the bar, but in those spaces where I was somebody else. Somebody more ‘level headed’, put together, stable. I’d have those brief moments where I’d get overrun by the possibility of getting out of the dark dank hell I’d been living in for as long as I could remember.

And then I’d just crawl back in, like persephone, running back underground to dance with the devil, just tryin to keep him warm at night.

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