I CAN'T COME TO HAWAII

1.

Sometimes things like this happen at two a.m., or close to it, when snow is on the streets and the only person out is me, when the church bell is silent and no one knows I am here, when my mind is adrift, when the middle of the cold night is a frozen thought, ever present, much as if I am a particle in the frigid air, not a snowflake, no, much smaller than that, more the size of floating dust but only a tiny unit, I in this deserted town equipped with one flashing red traffic light, but since there are no cars at this lonely hour, its duty is pointless, so I continue on through the snow, my feet heavy in my boots, my sense of time lost in its own melting.

 

 

2.

I am having coffee but then again I am not having coffee -- what I am doing is imagining that I am having coffee.

Yes, that's it.

Imagining.

But see, that's what my life has become: a series of imagined events, all of them strung together like popcorn on string, a useless thing except maybe for decoration.

My life is no decoration. I am a popcorn string, strung out.

You don't want to read this.

Go have some coffee instead.

Make sure it's the real stuff.

Make sure it's strong.

You'll never ever be sorry. Not ever.

 

 

3.

Funny how they don't miss you, funny how they don't care. But you knew this already. You knew they wouldn't, so why the long face? Why the short temper? Why the why?

If you really want to, go ahead.

If you really feel a need to, have at it.

If that's the answer you're going to give, then answer accordingly, as they say.

It will be your final jab.

 

 

4.

They don't say anything anymore.

No one says anything, not even you. Sitting there in your empty chair, still empty with you in it. And now what happens is beyond you, beyond your internal vision for what you imagined would truly happen: nothing. But who are you to argue, to blame, to circumnavigate the truth. The truth...is...whatever you want it to be(?).

Here is more for the dentin to chew. More to ponder in your laboriously laden brain.

Take yesterday.

Yes, the one that you lived in and a tomorrow that will find you living in another. A story unfolds, but slowly...slowly...all your stories do, they unfold themselves, they are flags unfurled in slow motion, like in some movies. This story begins and ends but the ending is one you reject so you frown upon it and spit.

If you don't like something (or someone, which can be construed as either similar or equivalent) then say it. Your mouth will cooperate with whatever your brain dictates, as long as your brain belongs to you and no one else.

Leave the heart out of this.

 

 

5.

People stop talking to you, their mouths close up, they stop forming labials, they stop talking, they stop.

This is the way it happens, the way it is supposed to happen, it is the way you knew it would. There are no real surprises anymore. Nothing like it was when you were much, much younger. Now it's the world's mundane approach to who you are, what you are, the being you have become.

Silence marks the spot you're in.

But somehow your smile forms itself somewhere inside, the place you hide in, the large space in which you find yourself existing. It's much like before but different, and this creates that smile.

The one no one will ever see.

 

 

6.

You have no idea what I'm talking about. You don't even know what you're talking about. Admit it. I mean, really. You talk and I talk and all anyone hears is talking mouths saying nothing. It's just this aspect of oral fungus we can't control. No, I can't either.

I won't go much further since you're bored already. You bore me, I bore you, we bore each other, there's no point in continuing. The world is one big boring place we live in and the world is a boring place we live in and the world is a boring place we live in and the world is.

 

 

7.

Don't call anyone. They won't call you back. They won't acknowledge you called. They won't return your emails. They won't respond to your calls for help. You could be at the bottom of a well full of rattlesnakes and no one would care even if they looked in and saw you in your terror. They would pick their noses or their teeth and spit then walk away. Maybe they had just come from a fast food place after getting their fill.

It wouldn't matter, so why even mention it.

Don't call anyone, don't write any letters, don't say anything to anyone.

Don't even whisper.

© 2023 Jeffrey S. Callico