Silver and Turquoise continued

She waits on a few of the other patrons and tells me that this one is on her, tells me her name Is Cameron, winks and walks away with a studded leather belt draped over her hip and hanging low on the other side. She bends to pick up something that has fallen and her G-string stairs me down in this one horse town. I finish my beer over some small talk and Camron tells me she will look me up when she finishes her shift as I walk out the saloon door. Outside on the porch some of the locals are drinking. The cowboy who bought a motorbike asks me where I am off to, I tell him I'm headed to the other end of town to where the cheap hotel is. He says, that's good there is a better bar down that end of town, one with real women working in it. I inquire, real women, isn't Cameron a real woman? He says hell no, Cam's a great guy, but he aint no woman.

Meanwhile

Silver and Turquoise

"Treat girl with some respect" I suggest to the drunk cowboy on the bar stool next to me. She winks and tells me she's used to it, say's he's kinda ride'n his own train, says he's kinda socially aggressive. He tells me he's got one of these BMW's like mine only a 650. Tells me he's 62 and bought it because they won't give him financing for a truck, "it's only a little truck", he says "but they won't give me the money no way's". Says "its's kinda like rid'n a horse, mostly ride off road anyways".
She tells me she's leaving this non progressive town, "head'n to the city", says she landed here three years ago, holding up three fingers cluttered with silver and turquoise. "It was a mistake: she says, "just had to get away from the ex".
It's an old western saloon Named "Dusters", established in 1880, same backdrop of a grand mirror and solid wood standing bar, where drunken cowboys fought for women and fired guns for no good reason. I can nearly hear the people 230 years ago whooping it up.
She's a little cold to start off with, I presume dealing with early afternoon drunks ain't always easy. She inquires if I want another DosXX's. "No,it's good I still have to ride out of this one horse town", She says "there's more than one way to ride a horse". So I say, "you got any experience in ride'n horses". She says, "a thing or two" and places another Dos xx's in front of me that I stair at with confusion.

Beauty By Age

And what happens if they find me beside a fire in the open darkness, is it a sin not to write beneath the light of electricity? Shall I be blamed to my depth to find enlightenment from lying on the God made sand and the warm rocks to rest my head? Who can make such a judgment, if one is full of such enlightenments, fill my glass to the brim with the finest of Cognac and cheers to the world for having me in the first place.
Not sure if I will sleep in this bed as I'm certain I could hear it move when I took my eye off it for only a brief interlude. The bed, it will swallow my maps, my plans, my everything. Maybe I should set fire to it; the bed and the green and red bed cover crawling with clients past, all who turn an eye to the fright.I can see now only from one eye and can hear the neighbours fucking in the bed beyond the wall, where they lay naked and stroking at 60 plus years. What a turn on, to think of getting it on with wrinkled skin and a boner.
If I drink another, chances are I will be thrown to the lions beneath their moans that make me hard. And now he's done and I can hear the toilet paper roll. It sounds as if she needs a little more. They talk and she consoles him, all while touching herself to finish.
I will meet them tomorrow on the trail of lust. I plant the seed that will see us down the same walk way to the accent ruins, a place to fall back in time, a place to make her feel young again.

Desert Doctor

In a town called Escalante, he rides a Harley sporting an American flag. He can hear the purr of any motorcycle engine in town and circle in to render that tick. He'll indicate from where you came on the tire he changes and nail it to an outer wall of pride. He'll offer you cold beer in the pouring rain and coffee in the blazing sun. And when you depart it won't be without a metal crucifix he's made.

New Mexico Nights

USA NIGHTS

R.I.P. Dawson

His name was Hugh Dawson Dixon, he went by Dawson and he loved to smoke tobacco and weed and drink his homebrew. He left the city about 25 years ago in a five ton flat bed truck with all he owned, headed for the wilderness to start a new life. He built a cabin from a garage package and covered it with cedar shakes he harvested from his land. He loved to debate and talk loud as he got drunk,and the man could put up a pretty good wrestle. So many times he drove home to his cabin from mine seeing through one blurry eye. We spun doughnuts on my neighbour's lawn and spilt beers in circles. We worked together 20 years ago trying to get my pump to pull water from my well, we've waited at waters edge for the next cold beer to float by, I bet there are a few still swirling in his pool of cold water. At one point he had a rooster so mean that he had to keep a switch close to where he parked his 1966 Barracuda, just to ward off the attacking bird as he exited his car. He's taught me many an outdoor trick, he showed me how to split cedar shakes and how to harvest fiddle heads for consuming.He grew his own tobacco and when he was forced to kill a bear he ate every last bit of it, he made a fur vest from it's hide and had given it fair warning. He once told me how he could take down a grizzly with his two fingers by shoving them up its nose. He told funny stories and tumbled with gravity. He fished Poplar River and even had a couple of holes on the Lardeau. He told me he was getting sick of eating fish, but it was a good part of his diet, he told me he was getting sick of shovelling the heavy snow falls and that one day would move into society. Well I hope it will all be easier for him now as he found his final sleep on his couch in his cabin after doing his final morning chores. I'm going to miss you Dawson, you were a good man and I'll blow my horn every time I cross Poplar Creek bridge, just to let you know I'm in the neighbourhood. Thank you my friend for showing me your mountains.

Three Miles Off

"Estrella, I have to tell you something, something Wonder is not aware of, something I've been hiding.
I, I am Jack Hynes."
"YOU, you are Jack Hynes.
What are you saying this for, Jack is dead."
"No he's not, that was someone who stole my identity
I swear I am Jack."
"Jack, Jack, Jack!
Can you hear me Jack?
Open your eyes
Jack, do you know what day it is?"

The blur of the ambulance lights slowly filter Jacks conscience. A small pile of throwing rocks sit along side Jack at the edge of the dirt covered road.
Jack you've been in a fight, can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?

What Comes Around

It was all so overwhelming, the coincidence of Estrella running to Nelson, leaving behind what she thought was her own dead father. Her casually bumping into Gordon.

"Your mother and I, well we know each other, as well I know Miguel, he was a good friend of mine but I haven't seen him in years, nor your mother."
"What are you saying, did you know Jack Hynes, did you know my father?"

Mexico City's Past

"Did you say your name is Estrella?
Is Your mother's name Reina?
What is your father's name?"
"I told you my father is dead,
how do you know my mother's name?"
"Who killed your father, did you kill him?"
"No, is was some guy I met, he knew Miguel
and he fell in love with me,
he said my father should pay for his sin."
"Your mother IS Reina!", Gordon concluded.

Morning

The night spilt into the street like an over pored shot glass.
Gordon and Wonder escorted the young latin girl back to their Annabel apartment.
T.S. and Shaggy packed their guitars up the hill.
Morning fell hard .
"What's your name?" Wonder asked as the stranger awoke.
"I, I am Estrella, I come from Mexico City to find my father, and I thank you for watching over me , I Know I drank to much wine last night."
"Oh that explains the stain on my shirt"
Gordon rolls over and scratches his balls beneath the covers.
"Oh, don't worry about that" Wonder offers.
"You said some pretty fucked up shit last night, do you remember?"
"What did I say?"
"You said something about your father dying."
"Oh my god please don't say a thing to anyone about this."

Estrella

The cold night called Gordon, Wonder,T.S. and Shaggy to the Royal to warm them with hard alcohol. The music was loud as usual and the pulse of the bar carried a beat that the four of them rode like a rouge wave. They were buzzing, the dance floor was filling, their glasses filled and spilling. T.S. was ranting some obscure poetry, Wonder was blowing hot on Gordon's ear and Shaggy was looking to smoke another.
A young latin girl danced alone, spinning circles, her dark hair a drift, Gordon and Wonder began dancing with her. She was alone so they invited her to their table as the song ended, she was pissed drunk and speaking gibberish. She said things that didn't make sense, something about revenge and mentioned that her father shouldn't have tried to fuck her. Then she started puking. Wonder and Gordon escorted her outside for some fresh air. By this time she was crying and saying she shouldn't have done it. Snot and saliva flowed from her nostrils and mouth, she started heaving and let go of the nights drinks on Gordon's shirt.
"I'm so sorry, you are very nice people and I am so far from home and I have done something so terrible".
"Don't worry the shirt can be washed, it's not a big deal."
"I can't change what I've done, and now he's dead, I've come all this way to meet him, all the way from Mexico City and now he's dead."
What are you talking about, who's dead?' Wonder asked.
"Oh what do you care? I shouldn't have said anything, but he was my father and he tried to have sex with me, my mother told me it would not be worth the journey, but I never thought it would be this bad, and now he's dead."

Burn One Down

The cold came in and the heat went out, the old iron radiator is a thing of beauty, but just wouldn't keep the room warm.
"Let's get ripped"
Wonder agreed with Gordon, it was just too cold to ignore.
"We can spend the money you made on dime bags and replace it when my check comes in, it's called play'n the system."
Again Wonder agreed.
T.S. reached under his bed roll and twisted one of his last joints.
Just as they fired it, a knock on the door.
"Hey, thought I told you not to smoke that in here!"
Wonder franticly opened the window and a gust of cold air wisped the smoke outside to linger over Baker St.
Gordon laghed one of his deep drawn out trade mark laughs and said
"Come in Shaggy".

Word

Bishop had sent word with T.S. that the hit on Jack had been carried through, that the guy who he had traded cards with back in the underground theatre had succumbed to Jack's demise. And that it would be in his favour to remain in Nelson under the alias of Gordon Young.
Stoned on weed T.S. laughed and said "Yah, Flash Gordon and Wonder Woman"

T.S.

Frost gathered on dying leaves
peoples pace quickened to their destinations.
Gordon recognized T.S. fumbling with his tobacco pouch leaning on a frost bitten brick wall.
It had been years since they had last seen one another
and instead of getting into the entire name change on the street
Gordon and Wonder invited T.S. up to the apartment.
Wonder put on a pot of tea
and T.S. rolled a long skinny joint.
He was in town reacquainting himself with his old digs.
He was accumulating material for the book that he'd been writing for the last ten years.
while Wonder blended her different herbs for the tea
Gordon quietly let on how he had changed his name and directed T.S. to address him so.

Dime Bags

Gordon met Wonder at the bus stop, the one just down from the Still Eagle.
She was new in town and looking for a place to stay,
Gordon obliged.
They would hang out in the cold one room apartment
watching fall disappear into winter.
Baker, two stories below offered constant stimulation.
Wonder sold dime bags for Rollo,
a dealer she knew from Van, who had set shop in Nelson.
Selling dime bags was quick change
that complimented Gordon's unemployment checks
which came every two weeks like clock work.

Shaggy

Nelson is set on a hill which gravitates everyone to Baker Street, where coffee shops bustle with crowds of people, smoke shops fill with old hippies and young hipsters. Gordon was one with the setting, the buzz of downtown, the artsy vibe, the old loggers and the young beauty that graced Baker Street. Shaggy had received word from Bishop of the hit been put onto Jack back home. No one knew details, but when Gordon bumped into Shaggy out back of the smoke shop that was the news he had.
Shaggy, an old friend of Jack's was down with the name change, he didn't ask questions, just wanted to burn one in the alley and was happy to see his old friend. He had been playing music on Baker when Gordon had just found his way to town, even with the new identity, it felt good to carry a bit of the past.
Gordon walked lightly in his shoes gracing the back alleys with his presence.

Baker Street

The show was over and Jack had pulled off a couple of lines.
Of course they were lines from the stranger's card
and the stranger left with Vanessa.
It was all too much to conceive.
Jack lurked around his old town lost,
the spirit had been stolen from under him.
The season was changing
and Jack felt the need to travel,
his destination not far,
over the mountains to the stimulation of Nelson.
There he would become a new man
create a new identity.
No one knew him
and other than signing his unemployment checks
he would become
Gordon Young.

What found Jack

It was all confusing,
but everyone else knew the game.
They were all up for it.
The entire game was similar to going to a Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Jack had unknowingly bet on lines in the flick.
Know them or lose what you came with.
For Jack this was a bit too much on line.
If he could remember the movie word for word,
or even recall the scene sequence
he would be at ease.
The entire set up was like a house full of key party players.
Jack stumbled and asked the guy next to him to trade cards.
He could lose his identity,
maybe even Vanessa.

The Brisco Kid 2

After the day of scrap pick'n
ZZ and I were on the way to the salvage yard
when we passed Dry Gulch
back beside JD's old house.
All that defunct carni mosh pit
caught my eye.
There's a hell of a lot of weight lying there?
I questioned
ZZ replyed,
Oh thats old so and so
crazy ol' bastard
goes to all the funerals
just to steal food,
saw his wife fill'n her purse
with potato salad at the Brisco pot luck.
Crazy ol' bastard used to follow the circus or some shit.
Was putt'n a fence in out back that place early one morn'n
and the dog starts a bark'n
out comes this block of a woman
wear'n noth'n but a pink night shirt.
She grabs hold of the dog and
he comes straight for me
just a chargin'.
Well I gotta tell ya
this long tube of a tit falls out of her night shirt
and starts swaying
comming right for me
her, the dog and this long old titty that looked
like it had a bowling ball in the end of it just a sway'n
with an aureola the size of a small pizza.
Didn't know if i should run or laugh
so I just went to stick'n that fence up.

In the Shadows

No one knew her
and her age was not of concern
She wasn't related to anyone
so there could be no
judgement.

Get Up

Bishop had taken a gut shot
but it would take more than that
to put that tower of a man down.
He wasn't one for the crowds
so Jack questioned why he was at the mid-way?
All the colors blended
as the rides turned
there was the sounds of a million phones ringing at once
but Jack knew Bishop
and knew he'd get up.

Nerves

The game was bingo slaughterhouse
it was all in
Jack stood to lose all he had gained.
The next line of the flick was all that mattered
know it, or lose what you possessed.
It was all or nothing and no one had fear.
Jack had drank too much coffee
and
was shaking
and sweating
and feared to lose
what he had found
or what had found him.

Get your Tickets

Jack had just enough to pay for the pair of them.
The movie would start in 15 minutes
Vanessa's friends were there
Jack couldn't recognize any of them
it was if they had been hiding,
elitism at it's finest.
They weren't snobs
they all came across as interesting.
There was some type of gaming going on,
it seemed as though
there was a betting system and they all
were scurrying around.

Men Like Boys

"Why must you men always fight like boys?"
Men?
Jack hadn't considered himself a man,
his age was lost along with fitting in.
Nothing made him feel more alive
than finding someone to talk with
about indie movies, writing or poetry.
Jack was self educated and self medicated
all of which he came by quite by mistake.

Vanessa

"What is your name? Me, I am Vanessa."
"And what happened to your face?, you look like you've been fighting, was it over a girl? Do you love her?"
Jack lowered his head and lit the cigarette she had rolled for him.
"She wasn't worth it," he allowed
"It's old news now," he said touching the back of his head discovering a couple lumps that had resulted in the breaking of his opponents hand.

Drinking and Smoking

He had never seen her in his small town but that wasn't so strange as the place was growing in popularity with seasonal crowds but she really seemed out of character for her surroundings. Jack recognized the bike though, it was a fifty something BMW, he could place it not only by the recognizable emblem on the steering stabilizer but also from the boxer engine that proudly protruded from each side beneath the gas tank. He often dreamt of owning such a machine but rarely could afford to pay the rent of his crummy rooming house digs with the shared bathroom and lack of insulation, where he could hear his deadbeat neighbours fight and fuck, where he had spent the last four years writing short stories and working on a particular piece that never came to a head. He currently was working as a store clerk at one of the chain grocers that had invaded his small town which payed just enough for the rent in the tenant house, so getting drunk and smoking all came by way of good fortune, this was one such occasion.

Black Leather

In the distance Jack could hear the rumble of pipes coming closer, he wiped his nose which was dripping spotlets of blood and arose as the motor sounds grew closer. He could see the bike nearing with a trail of dust to follow. There appeared to be a single rider, thin, dressed entirely in black but not the cliché look of a Harley rider, but moreover that of European resemblance. The bike came to a halt next to Jack and the dust passed as she lifted her vintage goggles. "Well don't you look pretty" she offered as Jack again wiped the drop of blood from the deep cut that crossed the length of his nose. She reached into the rear pocket of her well worn tight fitting leather motorcycle pants and offered Jack a red spotted hankerchief, similar to the kind a train conductor may possess. She then untied the draw-string of her small leather pack that she had been carrying and withdrew a pouch of rolling tobacco. The brand was unfamiliar to Jack, the whole scene was out of one of the independent movies Jack prided himself on.