Tuesday, January 14, 2014

The Devil



The first time I met the devil I was five years old.

One clear winter night, with new fallen snow

 he sat on the end of my bed.

 He took my small hand in his warm hands

 and we discussed the matter of my soul.

But since I was new to the world and still quit attached to my soul our conversation soon ended.

 

Time passed as time always does.

I learned right from wrong.

I learned that nothing lasts forever.

I learned that the whole world did not reside in the embrace of my mother’s arms.

 

The second time I met the devil I was seventeen years old.

One warm spring night filled with the scent of apple blossom,

He stood in my way when I was running through the streets.

 Hoping my father would not notice the late hour.

He looked at me with glowing eyes.

“You have grown well,” he said and smiled.

But since I spent my days and my nights

 discovering the desires and pleasures of my body.

 I had no interest in discussing the matter of my soul.

 

Time passed as time always does.

I discovered love and betrayal.

I learned that everything is not right or wrong.

I lost myself.

I found myself.

But I still searched with a longing in my soul.

 

The third time I met the devil I was grown up.

My life was filled of things and possessions.

I had everything I ever wished for.

But my soul was empty.

One cold rainy night he stood on my door step.

I invited him in as you do with an old friend,

I fell to my knees and begged.

 

“Please quiet all my doubts,

Please ease my soul,

Please silence the demons that ride my mind.

Make me forget the light,

The demands

And the everyday worries.

I have no desire left,

No longing,

No wish to accomplish.

Destroy my life,

Break it down,

Make the foundation crumble and fall.”

 

He reached out and took my hand,

he pulled me gently up and I buried my face in his chest.

I whispered in to his skin.

 

“Possess me!

Love me!

Rip me!

Please silence all the demons”

 

“Claw me!

Ride me!

Tear me!

Please silence all the demons.”

 

“Fill me up with madness,

Fill me up with joy.

Let me shy away from rightfulness and embrace sin as a lover.”

 

He looked into my face and smiled with delight.

 Flames burst out of his fingertips,

 as he caressed away the doubts from my mind.

 

I sold my soul to the devil.

For a promise,

Not a promise of power and grandeur.

But a promise of delightful submission, a silent mind and dark pulsating joy.

 

 



Thursday, January 9, 2014

The clerk


“Dove soap, Tylenol, Burt’s Bees baby oil,” Kathy mumbled to herself. “Oh and…and...fuck I forgot.”

She walked to the soap aisle, got down on her knees and grabbed a big pack of Dove soap, put it in her basket. Grabbed the baby oil as she walked by and stood for a long time in front of the Tylenol, still wondering what that fourth thing was that she was supposed to get.

“Do you need help?”

She turned her head, a young man stood a few yards away. Curly hair, glasses, in his early twenties dressed in the blue shirt everybody who worked there wore.

“No, I am fine. Thank you!”

He nodded his head and walked by her and turned to the left at the end of the aisle. Kathy took a box with Tylenol and dumped in her basket.

“Dove soap, Tylenol, Burt’s Bees baby oil.” She tried to remember again, but that fourth thing was not cooperating. A big blank space in her mind. I will just walk around for a few minutes and see if I can remember.

She stood and looked at the snacks; picked up a few bags in her hand, read the list of ingredients, put them back. She still couldn’t remember.

“Do you need help?”

The same clerk again, she smiled and shook her head.

“No, I am fine.”

Went back in her mind all the way to the morning. No soap in the shower, looked down at the soap in her basket. Check! Almost no baby oil left to lotion her body, looked down in her basket. Check!

Ate breakfast, got on the bus to the office. Had 100 emails waiting.  What is the point of a vacation when the work just waits for you when you get back? Read and answered emails until she had a headache. One Tylenol left in the bottle she kept in her desk at work, looked down in her basket. Check!

She walked up and down a few more aisles recalling her day. Had lunch with Eleanor, they went to the new cafĂ© on the corner. Came back to the office, lost herself in vacation memories during the afternoon meeting. Had a Luna bar as a snack, left at 5:15. Starving, she had bought a wrap and ate it on the bus.  The fourth item was still escaping her.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

Kathy stopped and turned around, the same clerk again. He was crouched down, putting items on a shelf.  He smiled at her; he had a slight gap in between his first two front teeth just like Lauren Hutton.

“Do I look that lost?”

They both laughed.

“You do look like you are looking for something!”

“Ha,” Kathy said, “the story of my life. I am always looking for something.”

He cocked his head to the side.

“Me too,” he said without any embarrassment in his voice.

Kathy looked him over; slim close to skinny, tight black jeans and black Converse. On his left hand, on the soft part where the thumb meets the hand he had a star tattooed.

“Well you are so young you still have time to find what you are looking for.”

He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants in a very boyish manner. Took one step closer to her.

“Does it get easier?” he asked sincerely.

Kathy shook her head.

“No, not at all. It actually gets harder.”

He looked disheartened.

“Oh,” he said, “Well let me know if you need help.”

A perfect September evening greeted her as she came out of the store. The fourth item was missing but it was hopefully nothing important. The air had lost the humidity of the summer and she enjoyed the walk home. Strolled down the street to her apartment building.

When she came in she opened all the windows. Pulled off her office clothes and put on her tights and her linen shirt. Opened the doors to the French balcony and pulled the old armchair to the opening. Turned on her record player and put on a John Coltrane LP. The soft rasping sound when the needle hit the record always filled her with anticipation. She took a few dance steps to “Minor Mishap” as she walked out in the kitchen. She would make a pot of tea, smoke a joint and sit in front of the open doors. Let the sun set as she watched it and feel the night cool off.

She filled the water boiler, opened the cabinet and reached up to the shelf. Searched with her hand for the tea. She started to laugh. The fourth item! Tea!

Put her feet into her ballerina flats, grabbed the keys and her bag and left again.

As soon as she came into the store she saw the young clerk again. He looked surprised when he saw her.

“I remembered what I was looking for,” she said and smiled.

He nodded.

“Good!”

She picked Roobios Chai and walked back towards the cash register. The clerk was loading more stuff onto a shelf. She looked at his wiry build and the slim neck and felt a sudden tenderness. She stopped behind him.

“I lied,” she said and he turned around.

“About what?”

“It gets easier when you get older.  At least I think so. I sort of accept that I am lost now. “

He stood up and had a curious look on his face.

“I mean, when I was fifteen I thought I had it all figured out. And then at twenty five I was sure I was grown up. Now at…” She stopped and smiled. “Well now I know that growing up never stops. We always look for something. We never stop changing. And that is actually the beauty of it all.”

He mulled over her words for a moment.

“Cool! Thanks!”

“No problem. Sometimes what you are looking for is right in front of you. You only have to remember what you need. This time I was looking for tea.” She held up the box for him and he laughed.

 

The tea was good, the joint perfect, Coltrane heavenly and the sunset glorious.