at the end of the cul-de-sac

"well, someone has got to talk to them. everyone on the whole block has something to say about it now." the telephone wires might as well of been cut at the end of the cul-de-sac, they hung over the houses like a closed circuit grapevine of gossip. "beck, this is the fourth time this week. i'm not calling the electric company again, don't you think they'd realize...," he was cut off by yet another agitated neighbor calling the home phone. "jesus christ!" he stormed upstairs with only his flickering flashlight.
"yeah, i know suz, this is getting ridiculous. someone is going to have to go over there." the candle lit room fell silent as suzie rattled off a handful of people who she thought should talk some sense into the neighbors when suddenly, "finally!...sure, okay, i will, i'll talk to you later," the lights came back on and rick stomps back downstairs. "you know, suzie thinks you should go over there and talk to the andersons since you guys went to high school together and all, you should go. all the neighbors agree." reluctantly, he put on his coat and headed out the door. "i didn't even like them much then."
his heavy brown boots crunched though the compact snow. the knit hat atop his head covered his ears and his old steelers starter jacket swishes with the wind. he inched his way to the edge of the road where the pot-hole ridden pavement widens and eventually dead ends. each family peered out their windows at rick like a pack of beady eyed sardines, some had five or six to a pane. as he passed the last of the personalized mailboxes and basketball hoops hanging over the last garage he finally made it to the last house on the cul-de-sac. he stopped for a second to almost admire the cause to all of his and his fellow neighbors headaches, squinting to locate the front door. but it was buried behind inflatable santa clauses hugging their arrow shaped"north pole"signs, the mechanical reindeer swaying their red-nosed bodies back and forth, the dancing candy canes that lined the sidewalk blinking red and white like a cop car, and the nutcrackers whose golden buttons shined as bright as the north star. the house was not just trimmed, but filled in with enough christmas lights to decorate the taj mahal. flashing neon wreathes sprung out of every window, reminiscent of the red light district downtown. but the mecca of it all was the baby jesus perched in the mangle of the top of the roof lit up as if it were guiding various ships back home to shore. upon focusing his eyes of this joyous display of lights, he remembers the only advice his wife gave him as he was leaving, "make sure not to stare, it could damage your retinas."
he cautiously continues toward the door, dodging blue bulbed snow flakes and an army of snowmen that littered the yard. swinging his arm back, he pounded on the door with his fluffy mittens making a muffled banging sound. the thoughts of how to go about saying in the nicest way possible"you're christmas lights are making the power go out down the whole block and all the neighbors are concerned, can you please tone it down a little bit" rush through his mind. he noticed no one was answering the door though. growing more annoyed while continuing to pound on the door, his thoughts turn into more of a "can someone turn those goddamn lights down, you're pissing all the neighbors off." as his temper grows and his face turns as red as rudolph's nose he notices a little note on the mailbox, what seemed to be for the mailman which simply read "please hold mail until new year's day, went to florida for the holidays, merry christmas."

you will never become familiar with [natural] beauty

as the children disperse amongst the playground, katherine silently walks toward the picnic table with her thin strawberry hair swaying in her face. her face focused on the muddy splotches of grass, though her mind soared elsewhere. visions of this morning dance around her tiny little head. i notice her isolation from the other kids, her classmates, her friends, so i approach the warped wooden table perhaps to cheer her up. i ask "how was our day today, katherine?" in an optimistic cower, "lousy," is all i got out of her. after a few minutes of asking more questions i look up into the sky and see the swirled white clouds guided by the bitter wind. gaze into the bare branch bobbing up and down, its all part of the picture. the neatly shingled roof of the school shielded by a flurry of gray. the sparkling spots of the afternoon sun. katherine with her elbows both on the tabletop holding up her smooshed freckled face; but now, talking. and i could hear every word.
she tells me that her cat threw up this morning, five times in five different places among her house. and there was blood on her deck. in the backyard were footprints in the snow that she claimed belonged to coyotes. "do you really think coyotes could have come into your backyard, and could those tracks maybe just be your cats?" I questioned. "Bigby would never run away for this long, he's afraid of it out there, he always comes home," she shot back. "everything just felt like a rush this morning."
i couldn't believe it when she told me that her parents had already said that if Bigby didn't come back then they can't get another cat, and suggested a fish for a future pet. when the word "fish" regretfully splat out of her mouth i could see her young heart break in her glared eyes. the cup of skin below was filling up like a bucket of water underneath a running faucet. attempts of comforting her fell short, i changed the subject. i talked about the school day. she talked about how this is all she could think about during the school day. "my parents have posters with Rigby on it, it says missing cat." this conversation was so honest, rubbing shoulders with the human spirit. the words i heard captured my full attention though my mind saw it as though watching an aging film strip with no words or music. the uncontrollable have found clarity.
another adult puts her arm around katherine and asks her what's the matter. already warmed up, she spits out the same story she told me. then the adult pulls katherine aside and asks her to go for a walk and holds her arm around her tiny body. it becomes another story. and the wind still rushes through the playground as i stare off into the beauty of the day knowing that i will never become completely familiar with it. the reality of the bitter coldness that we all play in has hardened some new skin. the capability of holding something more, something tangible squeezes the passions of youth without giving them much of a chance. while katherine waits by the fish tank for Bigby to come back home, i'll think of her sitting right in front of me and i'll remember that there's nothing i could do.

black eye

hid in my bedroom
for four days.
slept with the cat.
ignored the buzzing phone.
couldn't come to your doorstep
with a black eye.
embarrassed of attention.