There Was an Expanse Brick Bridge That Spanned Across the Rail Yard. the Amtrak Train Sat

There was an expanse brick bridge that spanned across the rail yard. The Amtrak train sat underneath roaring awaiting its departure. The train station by luck or misfortune located in Chinatown saying this because the Chinese are great believers in bad luck/good luck, lucky number one son, which did definitely not apply to me an Irishmen.. I had a window seat that faced out just afoot away from the expanse that faced the bridge. I had to turn my body around however in order to see it. There I saw Maya whom up until then I believed she had just drove off went on her way as I had hoped she would. Nevertheless, no that would have been too easy. She was there on the expanse, on the little bridge that crossed the tracks. Tormenting me jumping up down, dancing, laughing, smiling, and waving. She had to have the long goodbye. Maybe she needed it. Maybe she just enjoyed making me cry; maybe she felt that seeing the torment on my face would make her feel better for being such a shit head. I didn’t want to watch but the train seemed to be sitting there for a long time and felt obligated to wave to her and acknowledge her inane actions. Acting if this were some sort of party where I was the special invited guest and she my clown there to perform for me to send away the frown she from the distance of the bridge obviously couldn’t see and too dense to comprehend the pain I was in. The golden glow of a mid afternoon sun dancing like a halo around her crown, her long thick golden red hair her milky white porcelain doll like face. The illusion Maya. Completely selfish and unlovable. Reaching into my backpack and pulling out the bottle of Bushmills Irish whisky unscrewing the cap and taking a long pull from its contents to keep the tears at bay for others on the train were beginning to see and feel my sadness and I wanted to hide that and I did not want to feel . Did not want to feel anything. Just wanting the train to leave to get away. Wanted Maya to just leave the bridge. I began crying because I knew it was finished. I knew I would never have the love I once had for her. I knew I no longer loved her in the innocent way I once had.

Chapter Four

It’s Sunday. I can see her. The Pub is dark. It is almost as if I am there. However, I am hundreds of miles away. I have always possessed strong visions so the memories are as if films in my head being replayed over and over again .It hurts to do so yet the desire can become so strong. It is not hard for me to travel through time and space. Perhaps the connections, the connection to Maya healthy or unhealthy it is always powerful in its nature. Transcending all logic and intrusive and I know that I should be controlling this ability to travel space and time but sometimes I simply cannot stop myself. But there she is her long thick hair her chiseled jaw lines, those sad pouty lips begging to be kissed by anyone. She is wearing a long flowery dress and black tie up boots with socks that take away from the thickness of her vulnerability. The boots that add the statement I can be feminine but I will kick you in the balls if you say the wrong thing. She wears a waist length corduroy jacket that she will remove after the courage of a few glasses of wine will loosen her up a bit. After her insecurity begins to wane. At first, she moves just a little side to side as the music plays. And it all becomes so familiar after so many Sundays at the same pub after so many Sundays playing out the same persona. The lonely girl alone. She spans the small dark space. No, No empty booth no empty tables, no chairs, no room to move. Standing room only .if only she could sit she thinks I would not look so fat in this hideous dress. And it is much to warm with all the body heat in here to be wearing corduroy. It is not to be for it is standing room only. The wine is not working. She needs a shot of bertrone, courage be brave she tells herself. She convinces herself that all these people are just drunk and stupid anyway. Maya knows. Maya knows she is the smarter one there the oddball, the odd one out. She as to hold her wine glass tight and careful becomes a little irritable so many people brushing and bumping into her in an attempt to navigate the small space that leads up to the tiny dance floor where the freak Mountain Ramblers are beginning their first set. Her mind the wine the music the familiarity sometimes it all feels like home, but somehow she always feels the freak, the outcast, and the awkward duck that everyone is whispering about. More booze, no a joint. Maybe trick some ugly nerd to his car with a promise or at least a hint of a cock suck for a joint or a hit of coke or hell a bertrone at least. I can see her. Every familiar step the freckles on her forearm, the frightened look in her eye, the sudden panic to just run. I can see this and feel it because her fantasies are running deep tonight scanning every inch of the crowded Pub. Because it could happen. She thinks he could be here .He could just show up. Her desire to just touch the one man that loves the real reason she came. Her need so strong that from a distance just outside the window at a picnic table a man that looks just like him. Her heart pounds a drop sweat upon her lip she hurries to the window but it is not him. He is gone and she sent away and why? Because I am a fool, she tells herself. I am an idiot, living in a fantasy. A joint, a kiss from another man, will shake it off. He is here not in his body but he is watching me through another mans eyes that one right there! But it is not so. I am three hundred miles away sleeping in a lucid fantasy of my own. I just can see her pity her and know that she can never be saved from her own false sense of importance.