Close My Eyes
By: James Dubeau
Close my eyes
Mind races
Close my eyes
Roommates fight
Close my eyes
Door slams
Close my eyes
Siren blares
Close my eyes
Dog barks
Close my eyes
Light flashes
Close my eyes
Cat meows
Close my eyes
Door rattles
Close my eyes
Alarm sounds
Eyes are open
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Is There A Greater Pain
Is There A Greater Pain
By: James Dubeau
Is there a greater pain
Than heart ache
There is no bandage
That can cover the wound
No pill can be popped
To dull the pain
It just sits there
Gnawing at your soul
Sapping strength
Removing Hunger
Defeating sleep
Only with time
As they say
Along with distance
Can the soul be repaired
In an arduous journey
A quest
Across fields afar
Through deep valleys
At mountain crags
Could end the pain
But all it takes
Is one touch
Or one word
Or one scent
For it all to come crashing
Bringing back the pain
Again
By: James Dubeau
Is there a greater pain
Than heart ache
There is no bandage
That can cover the wound
No pill can be popped
To dull the pain
It just sits there
Gnawing at your soul
Sapping strength
Removing Hunger
Defeating sleep
Only with time
As they say
Along with distance
Can the soul be repaired
In an arduous journey
A quest
Across fields afar
Through deep valleys
At mountain crags
Could end the pain
But all it takes
Is one touch
Or one word
Or one scent
For it all to come crashing
Bringing back the pain
Again
Monday, December 21, 2009
Maverick's
Maverick’s
By: James Dubeau
I walked into the Maverick Bar in Farmington, New Mexico unsure of what I would find. She had to be there. She was supposed to be there. All signs had pointed to this dump on the outskirts of town, but she wasn’t there. Not in the gravel parking lot or in the Navy pilot memorabilia laden interior.
Only a handful of patrons were sparsely placed across the room. None of my fellow drinkers were too close to each other, clearly following the man-law urinal etiquette. Sorrows were gasping for air as each bottle was slowly drained. Only the bartender offered any real solace to the drinkers.
It was still early. There was plenty of time yet for her to show tonight. I ordered a Shiner and leaned my chair against the wall. Time slowly ticked by as I tipped my beer back time and again. My perch against the far wall opened up the rest of the room. Not a soul could cross the threshold without my weary old eyes seeing. Eyes which showed disinterest with the world to any who looked up from their dwindling bottle in front of time. If anyone else in the room had enough interest to look up, that is.
Rental charges on my beer started to acuminate as a forest of empty brown bottles started to grow upon the table. Solutions to my current problems were not at the bottom of any of those empties. Maybe the next would solve my predicament, or the one after that one. It really didn’t matter when the answer came, it would eventually.
Idly my fingers picked at another beer bottle label, slowly pulling it from the glass without tearing the paper. A tall drink of water which entered the saloon did not escape me. Her tight jeans and gray tank top didn’t leave much to the imagination. The bartender was dropping a little umbrella into a colorful drink as she approached the bar. With a smile and wink she snatched the drink and bubbled her way to a table. Long brunette curls bounced as gum smacked between her cotton candy lips.
My fingers traced over the corners of the photograph in my pocket as I crossed the bar for the restroom. I had looked over that picture a thousand times if I had looked at it once. It was her. I could feel it in every bone of my body.
Vacating the tavern floor for even a moment with my prey present was a much needed risk. It gave me the chance to get a closer look to confirm my suspicions. When I returned from the restroom I was relieved. Not only did my much needed piss grant me a new level of comfort but she was still seated right where I left her. Her head bobbed along with the music as she sipped her colorful concoction.
I smiled as I turned one of the chairs at her table around and sat, arms crossed on the chair’s back. “What brings you out on a Tuesday evening?”
Her toothy white smile responded to mine. “Pete used to have bitchin’ karaoke on Tuesday nights. Haven’t seen you here before, I could ask the same of you sailor.”
“Just needed some time to think, I suppose.”
“Frustrated?” she nodded to the grove of label-less brown bottles.
“You could say that,” I chuckled. “Been looking for something, but just haven’t been able to get my fingers on it. You know how that is?”
“Don’t I know it sugar,” she held her hand out. “My name is Charlotte, but all my friends call me Charlie.”
I took her silky smooth hand into mine, “Jack’s the name. My friends call me, well, my acquaintances add a certain three letter word onto that.”
Charlie laughed. “Has this dive helped you sort out your thoughts?”
“Not fully,” I shook my head. “I may have to return tomorrow night.”
“I get my best thinking done at the Blackwood downtown. Maybe you should give that one a try.”
“That just might have to fit onto my schedule before I leave town.”
She took a sip from her drink before standing, leaving the half empty glass on the table. “Unfortunately I must make this a short evening. Good luck on all that brings you to Farmington.”
“Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you.” I had smiled and watched her firm ass as she glided from the tavern.
The conversation all but confirmed everything. She had the five-hundred thousand. Not enough to live to exuberantly, but enough to get by on for a while. She was a smart girl, no doubt she will be watching for a tail tonight. Will have to play things safe for a while and earn her trust before bringing her back. There is still time while the expense account lasts.
By: James Dubeau
I walked into the Maverick Bar in Farmington, New Mexico unsure of what I would find. She had to be there. She was supposed to be there. All signs had pointed to this dump on the outskirts of town, but she wasn’t there. Not in the gravel parking lot or in the Navy pilot memorabilia laden interior.
Only a handful of patrons were sparsely placed across the room. None of my fellow drinkers were too close to each other, clearly following the man-law urinal etiquette. Sorrows were gasping for air as each bottle was slowly drained. Only the bartender offered any real solace to the drinkers.
It was still early. There was plenty of time yet for her to show tonight. I ordered a Shiner and leaned my chair against the wall. Time slowly ticked by as I tipped my beer back time and again. My perch against the far wall opened up the rest of the room. Not a soul could cross the threshold without my weary old eyes seeing. Eyes which showed disinterest with the world to any who looked up from their dwindling bottle in front of time. If anyone else in the room had enough interest to look up, that is.
Rental charges on my beer started to acuminate as a forest of empty brown bottles started to grow upon the table. Solutions to my current problems were not at the bottom of any of those empties. Maybe the next would solve my predicament, or the one after that one. It really didn’t matter when the answer came, it would eventually.
Idly my fingers picked at another beer bottle label, slowly pulling it from the glass without tearing the paper. A tall drink of water which entered the saloon did not escape me. Her tight jeans and gray tank top didn’t leave much to the imagination. The bartender was dropping a little umbrella into a colorful drink as she approached the bar. With a smile and wink she snatched the drink and bubbled her way to a table. Long brunette curls bounced as gum smacked between her cotton candy lips.
My fingers traced over the corners of the photograph in my pocket as I crossed the bar for the restroom. I had looked over that picture a thousand times if I had looked at it once. It was her. I could feel it in every bone of my body.
Vacating the tavern floor for even a moment with my prey present was a much needed risk. It gave me the chance to get a closer look to confirm my suspicions. When I returned from the restroom I was relieved. Not only did my much needed piss grant me a new level of comfort but she was still seated right where I left her. Her head bobbed along with the music as she sipped her colorful concoction.
I smiled as I turned one of the chairs at her table around and sat, arms crossed on the chair’s back. “What brings you out on a Tuesday evening?”
Her toothy white smile responded to mine. “Pete used to have bitchin’ karaoke on Tuesday nights. Haven’t seen you here before, I could ask the same of you sailor.”
“Just needed some time to think, I suppose.”
“Frustrated?” she nodded to the grove of label-less brown bottles.
“You could say that,” I chuckled. “Been looking for something, but just haven’t been able to get my fingers on it. You know how that is?”
“Don’t I know it sugar,” she held her hand out. “My name is Charlotte, but all my friends call me Charlie.”
I took her silky smooth hand into mine, “Jack’s the name. My friends call me, well, my acquaintances add a certain three letter word onto that.”
Charlie laughed. “Has this dive helped you sort out your thoughts?”
“Not fully,” I shook my head. “I may have to return tomorrow night.”
“I get my best thinking done at the Blackwood downtown. Maybe you should give that one a try.”
“That just might have to fit onto my schedule before I leave town.”
She took a sip from her drink before standing, leaving the half empty glass on the table. “Unfortunately I must make this a short evening. Good luck on all that brings you to Farmington.”
“Thank you. It was a pleasure to meet you.” I had smiled and watched her firm ass as she glided from the tavern.
The conversation all but confirmed everything. She had the five-hundred thousand. Not enough to live to exuberantly, but enough to get by on for a while. She was a smart girl, no doubt she will be watching for a tail tonight. Will have to play things safe for a while and earn her trust before bringing her back. There is still time while the expense account lasts.
Friday, December 18, 2009
At Road's End
At Road’s End
By: James Dubeau
Roads are slick
Snow is thick
Driving fast
Escaping the past
High beam’s glare
Averts my stare
No need for a belt
The ice might melt
Or I’ll spatter
For it doesn’t matter
Earth will turn
As I burn
Without a friend
At road’s end
By: James Dubeau
Roads are slick
Snow is thick
Driving fast
Escaping the past
High beam’s glare
Averts my stare
No need for a belt
The ice might melt
Or I’ll spatter
For it doesn’t matter
Earth will turn
As I burn
Without a friend
At road’s end
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Does He Make You Happy
Does He Make You Happy
By: James Dubeau
Does he make you happy
Well um yes
No seriously
Does he make you happy
I think so
No don’t think
I can only give approval
If you can answer this question
Does he make you happy
I don’t know
Then that is all I need
That is a no
But
No
Give me a straight answer
I can’t
Then that is a no
But
No
That is a no
Live it
For it will be
Your future
By: James Dubeau
Does he make you happy
Well um yes
No seriously
Does he make you happy
I think so
No don’t think
I can only give approval
If you can answer this question
Does he make you happy
I don’t know
Then that is all I need
That is a no
But
No
Give me a straight answer
I can’t
Then that is a no
But
No
That is a no
Live it
For it will be
Your future
Monday, December 14, 2009
Driving Home
Driving Home
By: James Dubezau
Driving home
Late at night
Belly full of beer
8-bit graphics
Fly on by
As my foot
Presses down
Sixty
Seventy
Eighty
Miles an hour
On the snowy streets
Black top slick
With wet and ice
Fishtailing through corner
While rushing home
By: James Dubezau
Driving home
Late at night
Belly full of beer
8-bit graphics
Fly on by
As my foot
Presses down
Sixty
Seventy
Eighty
Miles an hour
On the snowy streets
Black top slick
With wet and ice
Fishtailing through corner
While rushing home
Friday, December 11, 2009
Sea Of Subdued
Sea Of Subdued
By: James Dubeau
Red chairs
Gray tables
Beige walls
A sea of subdued
Floats on by
As I sit
Waiting
Watching
Listening
For signs of the future
A stranger passes
Looking through the doorway
I cannot speak
Move
Or even think
She is gone
In an instant
Just a flash
A presence
Barely a spec
A flash of red and tan
A floating smile
But I cannot follow
For I am trapped
Drowning
In the sea of subdued
By: James Dubeau
Red chairs
Gray tables
Beige walls
A sea of subdued
Floats on by
As I sit
Waiting
Watching
Listening
For signs of the future
A stranger passes
Looking through the doorway
I cannot speak
Move
Or even think
She is gone
In an instant
Just a flash
A presence
Barely a spec
A flash of red and tan
A floating smile
But I cannot follow
For I am trapped
Drowning
In the sea of subdued
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Starlight Inning
Starlight Inning
By: James Dubeau
Scratch scratch scratch emanated from the bedroom door. Jack propped open a single eyelid. An eyelid which was weighted down with fifty pound sacks of sand. 3:39 the clock read.
Bam bam bam. The door rapt against the frame. A black paw then reached under the door, grasping for air, a loose key, anything that was beyond the wooden barrier.
With closed eyes Jack reach for his running shoes that lay beside the bed. His hand felt the cool wood floor, and then a crumpled pair of boxers, before landing upon a shoe. “I’m sleeping here,” he barked as the shoe launched across the room, crashing against the bedroom door.
The pawing stopped. Dreamland washed over Jack. A bright sunny day. Blue sky hung over head. Vibrant green trees flanked the lush green carpet of lawn. Balloons were tied to everything, the trees, picnic tables, and even the pavilion itself. Smiling people kept walking up to Jack just to pat him on the shoulder and shake his hand.
There she was. Lisa. The sea of friends and family parted, growing quiet to a soft murmur as Lisa floated to Jack. A shoebox was in her hands. It was a colorful little number, covered in pink and purple polka doted wrapping paper. A large green bow sat atop the box. Air holes penetrated its sides.
Air holes?
“Happy birthday roomie,” Lisa smiled in that cure perky bubbly way that she always was capable of. Never able to turn down the joy or happiness. “I thought that since I’m moving across country that you could use a new friend in that lonely apartment.” She bubbled over with a glee so contagious that Jack needed a glass of water just to wash the sugary sweetness from his mouth.
The top of the box popped open as a tiny black furry paw found its way from the constraints of the shoebox. “Its so cure,” the crowd murmured, “I want a kitty too,” a little girl punctuated the spectators.
Whap whap whap. The bedroom door slammed against the wood frame. Jack vaulted the other shoe against the door with a crash.
“I’m allergic!” Jack yelled.
By: James Dubeau
Scratch scratch scratch emanated from the bedroom door. Jack propped open a single eyelid. An eyelid which was weighted down with fifty pound sacks of sand. 3:39 the clock read.
Bam bam bam. The door rapt against the frame. A black paw then reached under the door, grasping for air, a loose key, anything that was beyond the wooden barrier.
With closed eyes Jack reach for his running shoes that lay beside the bed. His hand felt the cool wood floor, and then a crumpled pair of boxers, before landing upon a shoe. “I’m sleeping here,” he barked as the shoe launched across the room, crashing against the bedroom door.
The pawing stopped. Dreamland washed over Jack. A bright sunny day. Blue sky hung over head. Vibrant green trees flanked the lush green carpet of lawn. Balloons were tied to everything, the trees, picnic tables, and even the pavilion itself. Smiling people kept walking up to Jack just to pat him on the shoulder and shake his hand.
There she was. Lisa. The sea of friends and family parted, growing quiet to a soft murmur as Lisa floated to Jack. A shoebox was in her hands. It was a colorful little number, covered in pink and purple polka doted wrapping paper. A large green bow sat atop the box. Air holes penetrated its sides.
Air holes?
“Happy birthday roomie,” Lisa smiled in that cure perky bubbly way that she always was capable of. Never able to turn down the joy or happiness. “I thought that since I’m moving across country that you could use a new friend in that lonely apartment.” She bubbled over with a glee so contagious that Jack needed a glass of water just to wash the sugary sweetness from his mouth.
The top of the box popped open as a tiny black furry paw found its way from the constraints of the shoebox. “Its so cure,” the crowd murmured, “I want a kitty too,” a little girl punctuated the spectators.
Whap whap whap. The bedroom door slammed against the wood frame. Jack vaulted the other shoe against the door with a crash.
“I’m allergic!” Jack yelled.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
As I Sit Here
As I Sit Here
By: James Dubeau
As I sit here
Eyes heavy with sleep
Fingers ache
Neck cracks
Pride wells up
While I sip my whiskey
Black splatters against white
Underscored by red and green
Goals are within sight
Hovering above
Just out of reach
Bouncing from my fingers
But not quite there
Not quite mine
No matter how hard I try
It remains out of reach
More effort is required
And maybe
Just maybe
Another glass
By: James Dubeau
As I sit here
Eyes heavy with sleep
Fingers ache
Neck cracks
Pride wells up
While I sip my whiskey
Black splatters against white
Underscored by red and green
Goals are within sight
Hovering above
Just out of reach
Bouncing from my fingers
But not quite there
Not quite mine
No matter how hard I try
It remains out of reach
More effort is required
And maybe
Just maybe
Another glass
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
It All Hangs In The Balance
It All Hangs In The Balance
By: James Dubeau
It all hangs in the balance
And I do not know
Which way to go
Will moving a step to the left
Be my ultimate downfall
Or would going right
Bring me down instead
Neither way is up
Neither way is good
For I am standing upon
A seesaw of the damned
Children of the corn
Frolic with daemons and devils
Chanting and singing
As they circle about
Hoping
Wishing
Wanting
My utter destruction
And to feast
Upon my bruised and battered corpse
By: James Dubeau
It all hangs in the balance
And I do not know
Which way to go
Will moving a step to the left
Be my ultimate downfall
Or would going right
Bring me down instead
Neither way is up
Neither way is good
For I am standing upon
A seesaw of the damned
Children of the corn
Frolic with daemons and devils
Chanting and singing
As they circle about
Hoping
Wishing
Wanting
My utter destruction
And to feast
Upon my bruised and battered corpse
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