Post by goldenmyst on Apr 30, 2022 16:39:21 GMT -6
Denver 1984 by Cloak of Night
When I check my mail in the lobby there is a note from a woman with whom I spent nights at the skating rink in my fairy tale past. I knew she was here in Denver but had tried to hide from her to protect my newfound monasticism. But the slip of paper says, “You bastard, Love Tracy.”
That evening Tracy knocks on my door and my heart pounds like a prodigal son waiting to see if he is welcome at home again.
I yell, “The door is unlocked, come on in.” She barges in while I am listening to music on the laptop while wearing earphones. She says, “Wearing earphones is so high schoolish.”
I reply, “I try not to disturb the neighbors with my music.”
“Are you kidding me? You won’t bother your neighbors.”
I reply, “I am sorry, I am just Clark Kent the mild-mannered google guy.” I stumbled over a google guy repeating it to pronounce it right. We laugh together.
She asks if I have the CD I am listening to and I show it to her. She takes it wanting to borrow it. I offer to copy it for her and she accepts my offer nonplussed.
“How did you dig me up out of the graveyard of our past?”
“Your grandmother informed me of your presence here like you were in need of maternal care.”
“Well, I’m ready, and could use a foot rub.”
“You always were crazy. These are Natchez rules. We’ll take in a movie together but no hanky panky.”
I say, “Do you ever get homesick for Natchez?”
She smiles, “Yea, they have beautiful antebellum homes. But underneath the Southern hospitality is some major bigotry.”
“Yes some of those Christians are too hardcore; Too much hate and not enough love; Jesus is about love. But there is history there. Here it feels like a cultural wasteland.”
She says, “Denver isn’t about culture but rather the Rocky Mountains and the spirit of the west.”
I reply, “Let’s go watch a western movie. Those cowboy flicks are a kind of history around this neck of the woods.”
Tracy says, “Well I don’t own a car. But we could meet at the theater by bus.”
I reply, “My head is a mass transit system.”
“Are you good at finding detours around traffic jams? If so I’ll take the ride with you. But getting stuck in gridlock isn’t my kind of commute.”
“Rush hour can’t hold a candle to my driving expertise. I’ll get you where you want to go.”
“Listen, I want you to be on your toes, but not get us into a wreck.”
“Come on now. You know you’re in the hands of a professional with me. I went to the elite school of driving. I can make recoveries from just about any near accident.”
“Your biggest reckless maneuver was not telling me you’d come here.”
“Well, I was just getting settled in. Of course, I’d have let you know.”
“Said by a true evasive driver.”
“Just trying to get a job first so I can give you a smooth ride instead of a fender bender.”
“Waiting for you to get employment is like standing in line for the Black Friday sales and hoping your TV isn’t sold out.”
“But hey it is worth it. My TV can pick up more channels than the leading competitors.”
“You’ve got lots of channel surfing going on for sure. Now tell me, how did you arrive at this fair city?”
I say, “I took the train just like in the old west. It was worth it to see those Iowa windmills twirling like washing machines on spin cycle as though to clean the air.”
“Why didn’t you road trip with that Corvette whose upholstery was so soft on my seat when Disco was king?”
“She is a shelter for hobos.”
“Please leave out the riddles.”
“That rust bucket sleeps on the outskirts of town in a junkyard.”
“Now you’re making a reasonable semblance of sense.”
“Occasionally my compass aligns with the truth north of sensibility.”
“Tell me what other lovely sights I missed out on while being served chocolate ice cream in flight by pretty stewardesses.”
“I took the elevator up to the top of the Sears tower. My ears popped on the rise. The view from the Skydeck took in Lake Michigan and the city. There were women in saris hovering near the windows. Yet I had the most peculiar feeling that the tower was swaying in the wind. I didn’t stay there very long.”
She replies, “Scaredy-cat! You were hypnotized by the exotic dress of those Indian women and that made you dizzy.”
“Maybe it was the thinner air.”
She replies, “Maybe you should have rested on each floor before you got to the top to adjust to the altitude. You railroad people are for the birds. I took the plane as most people do.”
I say, “Ours was a fly by night romance.”
Tracy says, “Your nuttiness while charming is a bit much for my virgin sanity.”
I reply, “Feel free to drop by anytime for outtakes from the reality movie.”
She says, “Of course, but I want popcorn and soda. I am not a cheap date even while dropping off the consumerist bandwagon.”
“Spending on you isn’t consumerism. It is the soul train on an LP track to R&B heaven.”
“Take me for a spin on your turntable DJ.”
“You’re the only album on my playlist.”
When I check my mail in the lobby there is a note from a woman with whom I spent nights at the skating rink in my fairy tale past. I knew she was here in Denver but had tried to hide from her to protect my newfound monasticism. But the slip of paper says, “You bastard, Love Tracy.”
That evening Tracy knocks on my door and my heart pounds like a prodigal son waiting to see if he is welcome at home again.
I yell, “The door is unlocked, come on in.” She barges in while I am listening to music on the laptop while wearing earphones. She says, “Wearing earphones is so high schoolish.”
I reply, “I try not to disturb the neighbors with my music.”
“Are you kidding me? You won’t bother your neighbors.”
I reply, “I am sorry, I am just Clark Kent the mild-mannered google guy.” I stumbled over a google guy repeating it to pronounce it right. We laugh together.
She asks if I have the CD I am listening to and I show it to her. She takes it wanting to borrow it. I offer to copy it for her and she accepts my offer nonplussed.
“How did you dig me up out of the graveyard of our past?”
“Your grandmother informed me of your presence here like you were in need of maternal care.”
“Well, I’m ready, and could use a foot rub.”
“You always were crazy. These are Natchez rules. We’ll take in a movie together but no hanky panky.”
I say, “Do you ever get homesick for Natchez?”
She smiles, “Yea, they have beautiful antebellum homes. But underneath the Southern hospitality is some major bigotry.”
“Yes some of those Christians are too hardcore; Too much hate and not enough love; Jesus is about love. But there is history there. Here it feels like a cultural wasteland.”
She says, “Denver isn’t about culture but rather the Rocky Mountains and the spirit of the west.”
I reply, “Let’s go watch a western movie. Those cowboy flicks are a kind of history around this neck of the woods.”
Tracy says, “Well I don’t own a car. But we could meet at the theater by bus.”
I reply, “My head is a mass transit system.”
“Are you good at finding detours around traffic jams? If so I’ll take the ride with you. But getting stuck in gridlock isn’t my kind of commute.”
“Rush hour can’t hold a candle to my driving expertise. I’ll get you where you want to go.”
“Listen, I want you to be on your toes, but not get us into a wreck.”
“Come on now. You know you’re in the hands of a professional with me. I went to the elite school of driving. I can make recoveries from just about any near accident.”
“Your biggest reckless maneuver was not telling me you’d come here.”
“Well, I was just getting settled in. Of course, I’d have let you know.”
“Said by a true evasive driver.”
“Just trying to get a job first so I can give you a smooth ride instead of a fender bender.”
“Waiting for you to get employment is like standing in line for the Black Friday sales and hoping your TV isn’t sold out.”
“But hey it is worth it. My TV can pick up more channels than the leading competitors.”
“You’ve got lots of channel surfing going on for sure. Now tell me, how did you arrive at this fair city?”
I say, “I took the train just like in the old west. It was worth it to see those Iowa windmills twirling like washing machines on spin cycle as though to clean the air.”
“Why didn’t you road trip with that Corvette whose upholstery was so soft on my seat when Disco was king?”
“She is a shelter for hobos.”
“Please leave out the riddles.”
“That rust bucket sleeps on the outskirts of town in a junkyard.”
“Now you’re making a reasonable semblance of sense.”
“Occasionally my compass aligns with the truth north of sensibility.”
“Tell me what other lovely sights I missed out on while being served chocolate ice cream in flight by pretty stewardesses.”
“I took the elevator up to the top of the Sears tower. My ears popped on the rise. The view from the Skydeck took in Lake Michigan and the city. There were women in saris hovering near the windows. Yet I had the most peculiar feeling that the tower was swaying in the wind. I didn’t stay there very long.”
She replies, “Scaredy-cat! You were hypnotized by the exotic dress of those Indian women and that made you dizzy.”
“Maybe it was the thinner air.”
She replies, “Maybe you should have rested on each floor before you got to the top to adjust to the altitude. You railroad people are for the birds. I took the plane as most people do.”
I say, “Ours was a fly by night romance.”
Tracy says, “Your nuttiness while charming is a bit much for my virgin sanity.”
I reply, “Feel free to drop by anytime for outtakes from the reality movie.”
She says, “Of course, but I want popcorn and soda. I am not a cheap date even while dropping off the consumerist bandwagon.”
“Spending on you isn’t consumerism. It is the soul train on an LP track to R&B heaven.”
“Take me for a spin on your turntable DJ.”
“You’re the only album on my playlist.”
