In short, I have been thinking about past intimacies gone sour, whether predisposed or ... always... which may in part account for what the Chinese call "dampness" on my tongue and the scattered pulse, the heart swimming elsewhere in stagnant waters. No wonder, this persistent chill despite the hot shower and having toweled-off as thoroughly as possible.
There are times, as I have mentioned before, where words fail, histories play out, and though recognized as such, contain new components that elude elucidation. New (dare I call them) monsters, gremlin-like ankle-biters stinging shins raw, poetry at its most passive-aggressive. Words fail the doing, evidenced by trailing shards of serifs.
It is best not to speak of such battles, the glory in distraction.
"Howdy, folks!" Lonnie shouted as we came through the door. Fifty-some people turned to see. Lonnie was sitting at the counter when we walked in to the crowded cafe. New to town, we barely knew Lonnie, for he had been the tow driver who guided our vehicle to our new home. We blew our radiator just shy of our destination and Lonnie had our rapt attention for two hours after a fifteen minute tow. "Small town," was my only comment afterward to the wife, as I was more familiar with Lonnie's propensity than she.
"Hey, Lonnie. How are you?" I asked as we spotted and moved toward the last remaining table toward the rear.
"Just fine," he answered. "Did y'all get a chance to have that radiator fixed yet at the shop I told ya was the best?"
"Yes, and thanks again for your help."
"Aw, was nuthin. I seen plenty of bad cooling systems in my day and I could probably have fixed it myself but I have to be ready at a moment's notice for a tow..."
The waitress handed us our menus and we alternated between looking at the offerings and glancing up at Lonnie, for even though he was a good forty feet away from us in this filled-to-capacity but quiet lunch room, he continued to talk, adjusting his volume for the distance.
"... and they had all five kids in the car with them..."
This went on for a couple minutes and mixed in with other quieter conversations that had picked up again after we were seated, until further down the counter a woman began yelling, at first unintelligible, fighting for a volume over Lonnie's.
"You're just talkin' to hear yourself!" at which point the room went quiet again, Lonnie included.
What does a relative stranger do with such a truth?
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