Category: Fiction

  • Holy Night

    The bus arrived in the city as night came on, tunneling off the backstreets to the terminal underground, which seemed packed with every lost soul the devil could drag down – junkies, winos, pushers, pimps, beggars, hookers, small time cons, drifters, runaways, the down and out, and huddled here and there, in the corners, on the stairs, or sitting on the floor amidst the sleeping drunks, a number of homeless families taking refuge from the cold, Kopec was in between nowhere and no way out, caught in the middle, as always, with time running out. He secured his duffle bag in a locker and maneuvered through the mob, stepping carefully around the shadows who crowded the stairway life forgot.
    The city seemed, in the deepening dusk, to have carved out of some great, black rock and then abandoned to Nature. It piled its way up into an abyss of sky-less night, gathering from that darkness a whisper of a snowfall, and he hurried alone beneath it down the wide, barren boulevards that cut between those dark mountains. Christmas carolers, if they did appear, did so always off a distance and only for a moment, and quickly vanished, as he drew nearer, down into the shelters from this harshest of cities, where all life seemed to continue in closed and intimate societies. Too freaky Kopec brooded as he shadowed through the labyrinths. The city seemed as inimical as any of the others, even on this most benevolent of nights. He probably shouldn’t have come at all. He probably should turn back. He hadn’t seen his brother in years. What was the point?
    They had both changed. The world had changed. His brother was a big shot now, married, rich. It was odd that his brother’s Christmas card had even found its way to his drifter’s flop. What could his brother want with him now? Why would he want anything? In the world Kopec had come to know, given the polarity of everyone and everything, it seemed more like an invitation from the Twilight Zone than a Christmas celebration.
    The black winds chased across the canyons. Designer dream worlds, in which stylishly dressed mannequins portrayed a fabulous existence of placid perfection, appeared in storefront windows everywhere, while snowflakes shrouded each pale ghost lost in the nimbus of the street’s nightglow, where all was silent, still and cold. Kopec reviewed his outsider life – that bad fairytale where no wishes were ever granted, no dreams ever came true. He was as unlikely a guest at a family reunion as someone come back from the dead.
    Beneath the lights of a marquee, he stopped to study the card’s address. Holiday music from a speaker along the street floated mechanically into the icy air, and the bundled up Christmas shoppers jostled by in a lively lockstep with the jingly tunes. North? South? East? West?
    “Late edition!”
    The newsy on the corner barked as a van pulled up and tossed bundles at the stand.

    “DEATH TOLL MOUNTS”

    Kopec read the headlines, as the old croak hung the papers amid the montage of Money Mags and Designer Rags, Film Reviews and TV guides, the news print all but lost in the vast menagerie of splashy fan publications, silly sitcom shows, Survivor, Springer, Desperate Housewives, Chucky, Freddy, the Hilton sisters, the ghoulish politicians, and corporate gurus.

    “MORE TROOPS KILLED”

    He felt automatically for the scar on his neck, fingering the lightening bolt gash. Suddenly, he noticed that he was attracting a crowd. A small group gathered at the theater door was watching him and laughing.
    “Are you going into the theater, sir?”
    The stout patrolman hovered before him. He balanced his bulk on the balls of his feet, manner imperious, gaze mocking.
    “I’m not sure.” Kopec stammered stupidly, copping some vagrant’s alibi. “No, look, I needed to see this in the light.”
    Heart pounding, he handed the patrolman the card. When the big cop studied the address – in the park vicinity, an affluent neighborhood – he frowned, looked Kopec over again, peevishly, and curtly gave him brief directions.
    “All the lost lanes go nowhere,” Kopec sang, hurrying through the night. “All the doorways say Beware, all the newsstands shout Despair, the streets are full but no one’s there.” When he reached the park, it was inaccessible, closed for the night by city curfew. Rather than risk another run in with the law, he detoured around its high stone walls, face and hands becoming blistered from the cold.
    The towering structures dwindled in the darkness. Swank shops and upscale boutiques emerged amidst a miracle of fairy lights and holiday decorations. Once again, he was in the magnificent realm of storefront mannequins. The smiling, painted, puppet-like figures seemed to gaze at him derisively from their fabulous settings. Beyond the shops, houses loomed like castles in the falling snow. At an elegant structure, he slipped out of the blistering wind and entered a quaint, arched passageway.

    “HARD TIME DEAD TIME
    LIFE’S A JAIL LIFE’S A CRIME
    FEEL THE BIND LOSE YOUR MIND”

    Rock music met him, as he ducked in from the ghostly dazzle, hard blunt beats which bombarded his shivering body like bullets. Kopec could see nothing. He groped blindly through the staccato dark. The arched stone entrance was as black as a crypt. He searched the shadowy void uneasily, wary of the broken lamps, braced against some druggie skell who might be lurking with a knife.
    He found the door and rang the bell. The black winds whipped and wailed around him. He knocked and rang the bell again. The great door boomed with the rhythm of the base “Knock knock who’s there?” Kopec muttered to himself. “Knock knock who cares?”
    His teeth were chattering. His feet were blocks of ice. Despite his poundings, no one came. He tried the latch but it was bolted tight. He searched the dark in desperation

    “WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE!
    I HOPE YOU’RE GLAD TO BE HERE!”

    A stunning woman with wild, dark hair, dressed in black, suddenly appeared like an apparition, as the door opened wide and the blazing light and thundering music exploded in the passage. The woman’s eyes were holy mysteries. Her pale skin was so perfect it seemed painted on. She studied Kopec over the rim of her tilted cocktail glass. Between her ivory fingers a slender, scented cigarette was burning into ash.
    “I’m Steven Kopec.” He had to shout to lift his voice above the sonic blast. “Simon Kopec’s brother!” The light was blinding. He dug anxiously for the Christmas card buried deep in his shabby coat. When he finally found it and offered it to her, the wind tore it from his fingers and it fluttered through the night.
    “I’m expected!” He shielded his eyes from the doorway’s dazzle. “I’m Simon’s brother!” He stood shivering in his shoes, frozen to the bone.
    “I’m bored.” The woman gazed at him without expression. She talked from a dream, a hypnotic trance. She took a drag off her cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. She drained her drink and turned away.
    “The house is empty.” A phantom in the foyer informed Kopec as he slipped shuddering inside.
    “Then there’s room for one more.” Kopec forced a smile.
    “You’re here alone.
    The figure was indecipherable, a robed man shadowed from the party’s lights, tall, gaunt, eerie.
    “A lonely number.” The phantom paused and pondered. He brushed stiffly past Kopec and closed the door. “One.” He returned Kopec’s smile with a sardonic grin. Teeth like giant pearls split the hooded man’s face in half.

    “ZOOMIN TOWARD THE ZERO
    BOPPING TOWARD THE BLACK HOLE
    ROCKING TOWARD THE NO SHOW”

    Death camp creatures of gigantic proportions climbed the flickering walls, while demon shapes danced in the inferno below. The great, marble hall was a huge, domed holocaust of multicolored lights, movie images, rock music and twisting figures. Kopec remembered the grainy, black and white films from history studies. They were documentary footage of concentration camp survivors. Like ghouls in phantasmagoria, the skeletal specters twisted and tottered tortuously on their spindly legs. Barely of the earth, beyond death, eyes vacant, they were synchronized to howl with the music in a fathomless despair as they skulked across the illuminated walls, heads a goggle on their scrawny necks. The ghostly ciphers and their barbed wire backgrounds, counterpointed the delirium below like a black ballet. The Goth girls with their flaming hair and shadowed eyes and spiked appendages, their night-stalker styled boyfriends, the bejeweled debutantes, the chic socialites, the Glam guys and the demimonde sirens rocked below them in their never-ending ritual. The wrong place. Kopec brooded as he took in the spectacle. What is this place? A towering silver Christmas tree, decorated with golden dollar signs, loomed above the dancing figures, rising from the middle of the marble floor to the base of the gleaming dome. The tree revolved on a floodlit stand, caught the colored light, and cast rainbows around the room. The dancers rocked around the chimerical cone as if in a tribal rite around a bonfire. Dazed and amazed by the towering tree, Kopec followed its glittering tiers to their lofty peak. On top, a skeleton with wings, perhaps an angel of death, tipped the blazing Christmas tree and seemed to rise like burning bones from a funeral pyre. Above the death-angel, like a storm cloud afloat in the concave of the ceiling, a giant tarantula hovered in the hollow of the dome. The brackish, black illusion, which must have been projected by a hologram, crawled murkily over the hellish party. Silvery strands extended from the arched articulations of its slowly scrabbling legs. The web-like threads glinted in the refracted light and dissolved amidst the dancers. A wreath of words, written in colored Christmas lights, encircled the giant spider at the base of the dome. The blinking wreath read: Simon Says: “THE GREATEST MADNESS IS THE GREATEST HAPPINESS! MERRY MAS X!”
    “Look what just walked in.”
    The greatest madness. Kopec stared at the message stunned. Simon says: the madness, the madness …
    “Maybe it’s the ghost of Christmas past?”
    “Maybe it’s the Holy Ghost?”
    Kopec was covered with snow. It was turning into ice. Frost crusted his hair, caked his tattered coat. It was colder in the room that it was outside. His face felt frost-bitten. He could see his breath.
    “I think it’s the abominable snowman.”
    “I think it’s abominable.”
    “It’s a party prop you deadheads!”
    “Party propping what?”
    “The Needy.”
    “Tres Seedy.”
    Shaken and dazed, Kopec struggled through the pandemonium furtively searching the enigmas for his brother, wary of seeing him. Satan costumed servants shifted through the bedlam. Eyes blazing, tails flicking, they dispensed small ebony crosses to the revelers from pole-handled church collection baskets that were piled high with the crucifixes. The crosses were actually party pipes. The heady scents of hallucinogens further rarefied the rocking mayhem. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, “Brides of Satan,” dressed in black wedding gowns, carried trays of drinks through the mob from an incandescently lighted bar in the corner which was carved from polished ivory. The shimmering bar was ornately arched and garlanded by the pearly “Gates of Heaven.” The gate-keeper, who was dressed in a black Gestapo uniform, smiled ruefully at Kopec as he poured drinks from a skull.
    “Mr. Party Prop!”
    Kopec reeled blindly through the rockers, lost in the nimbus, heart pounding, head spinning. The grand hall was so crowded he could barely move. He shifted and turned, struggled and searched.
    “Bachelor number Zero!”
    His legs felt rubbery. His head was in a fog. He was choking on the drug-smoked air. The crowds swelled and surged, crammed around him. Elbows jabbed into his ribs. Hard-bodies slam danced into him. He was swarmed by a chimera of bright, glazed eyes; pale, perfect faces; and mocking grins.
    “Who designs your clothes, Mr. Party Prop?”
    “Calvin Swine?”
    “Georgio Our Moan Eee?”
    “Abercrummy and Flinch?”
    A willowy woman, dressed in black leather, with long raven braids roped like whips, swiveled her head and lashed her long thick dreadlocks across Kopec’s face. The blow was stunning. Hands ripped at his clothes, tearing them to shreds.
    “Have any tips on the stock market, Mr. Party Prop?”
    “Can I buy your date book?”
    “You’re the life of the party.” The phantom was suddenly beside him, fluttering like a black flames in the blazing inferno. “But then dead souls always do delight us, especially when they’re deadlocked in their descent toward their dead end.”
    “Where’s my brother?”
    Kopec’s lips were bleeding. A crowd of revelers stalked his steps and the hot notes from the hard rock seemed to flicker through the dazzle like fire-breathing dragon-flies.
    “Simon?” The phantom looked around and pondered. “Nowhere. Everywhere.”
    “Where is he here?”
    “No one’s here.”
    “I’m here.”
    “Are you?”
    Suddenly, Kopec saw him, as high tech lightening bolts zig-zagged through the horrendous hall and white light and thunder flashed and rumbled through the strobe-strafed mayhem. Simon was seated on a throne in the back of the room inside a giant Horn of Plenty that was molded from gold. The throne was also molded from gold, and Simon sat surrealistically atop it, costumed in royal raiment. A crown of jewels glittered on his head. Sparks from diamonds flashed on his regal garments and flickered from his fingers. He was a monarchal mirage of velvet and silk and rainbow weaving. Popes in golden chasubles, copes, dalmatics and adorned with orphreys, anointed Simon’s feet with sacred oil, while bishops in flowing gowns and hallowed vestments sprinkled him with holy water shaken from the flails of silver-stemmed staves, studded with gems. More dazzling than the godly rites and the Midas-rich royal trappings was the breathtaking woman seated next to Simon atop an identical throne of gold within the horn’s conical chamber.
    Hair like spun gold, piled high atop her majestic head, curling and cascading like the tiered tresses of a goddess, skin so pale it was almost transparent, eye like endless seas, she was the most beautiful creature Kopec had ever seen. A diamond tiara glittered above her noble forehead, emeralds and rubies encircled her swan-like throat, diamonds rounded her alabaster wrists and ringed her ivory fingers. Her grandeur was glacial. She gazed placidly at the rockers with a royal distain matched only by the suave smugness of Simon’s anointed saintliness –
    An ice princess in a gossamer gown that shown so radiantly in the chimerical light it seemed woven from witchcraft. Simon’s wife, Kopec’s sister-in-law. An avalanche of Christmas gifts spilled past the royal couple from the horn, flooding the marble floor below them – bizarrely wrapped boxes decorated with banshees and demons, bowed and beribboned with hissing snakes. Around the snapping boxes, moribund morticians carried, like pallbearers, corpses on cooling boards which they brought to a great banquet table stretched below the golden thrones for a royal feast.
    Debauchers and dandies, coquette and courtesans, reveled around the table while white-wigged waiters in ribald livery brought them body parts on silver trays. A dancing dwarf Jester dressed in a skin tight costume decorated with stars and moons and wearing a dunce hat of diamond dollar signs, capered amidst the bones and entrails and tankards of blood which covered the table, while he sang shrill songs and juggled skulls.
    Crosses pelted Kopec as he swooned toward the royal gathering, his body moving, yet not moving, somehow being moved, a step at a time, as though by some invisible force. A chorus of phantasms sang: “Retro retro rags,” As they stalked behind him. “I wanna wear some retro rags!” The party pipes bounced off his head, thumped against his back. Simon watched Kopec’s staggering progress, keenly, as he sat reclining on his throne of gold. He held a ruby-red goblet to his lips. His smiling mouth was crusted with blood.
    “Why doesn’t the spider get caught in its web?”
    The dwarf Jester jumped from the table and blocked Kopec’s path, hopping and screeching and waving his hands.
    Kopec swept his arm feebly at the little man, numbed and near delirium, but the jester dodged him.
    “Why doesn’t the spider get caught in its web?”
    “I don’t know.” Kopec chattered.
    The dwarf lunged forward and rammed his pointed hat into Kopec’s ribcage. The feasters roared with laughter as Kopec staggered to the table bent, eyes watering and breath smoking with the cold as he gasped for air.
    “Christmas becomes you, Steven.” Simon said dryly. He sipped his drink and shook his head. “But then you always had that manger born, martyr bent, crucified look about you.”
    “It doesn’t do much for you.” Kopec coughed. He stared stunned at his brother, filled with rage and dread. Simon looked better than ever. His face was flawless, handsome and fair. His bright eyes sparkled, brilliant and clear.
    “I’m a man for all seasons, Steven.”
    “And what season is this?”
    “Tis the season of Simon.” Simon toasted the air. “Like all the days and weeks and months of the year.”
    “Simon says: ‘Tis the Season of me!’” The Jester shrieked. The feasters pounded the table, yelled: here here here!
    “Not much to celebrate.” Kopec panted and clutched at a chair. He stared bewildered at the cannibal feast. Was it real? The sight made him sick. He fought down nausea and tried not to gag.
    “Oh, maybe not, Steven.” Simon smiled. “But it helps pass the time. Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please! This dashing young blade is my brother, Steven, come to join us in our celebration! Steven is a master of the manifest, a nomad of the unknown. He speaks in darkness to the dead rumored words which are never heard. In other words poor Steven is a poet. But perhaps that’s something you guessed by Steven’s stately demeanor and stylish dress!”
    “Touch us poet!”
    One of the revelers roared.
    “Sate our souls!”
    “Warm our hearts!”
    The table rocked with laughter.
    “Simon says: The crud is a dud!”
    “This can’t be possible.”
    Kopec shook his head. Simon was a star at the Art League in their town. His mind was brilliant, deep and profound.
    “Anything is possible, little brother, when nothing is real, and when nothing is real anything is possible. Poor Steven’s a lost soul. He always was with his books and dreams. He was a starry eyed little bookworm as a lad. Apparently, some worms don’t turn. They stay buried in their little holes in the ground, while the world changes despite them.”
    “You’ve changed.”
    “I’ve evolved.”
    “Into what?”
    “Into the present, poor bard. No one evolves into the past, me thinks.”
    “Think again.” Kopec shuddered.
    “You must forgive Steven.” Simon yawned. “He’s lost touch with the times. Besides, he’s out of his element. He isn’t used to seeing worldly society indulge itself. He isn’t used to society. The world is merely a suspicion to our poor poet, and he even less to it. Less than a suspicion. Less than zero.”
    “Why did you invite me here?”
    Kopec searched Simon’s face.
    “Am I not my brother’s keeper?” Simon spread his hands. “I put it to you my Queen.” Simon turned to the goddess. “Am I not my brother’s keeper?”
    “Keep him from me!” The goddess laughed.
    “Poor Steven.
    Simon shook his head as the table rejoiced.
    “No one wants a poem.”
    “But let me give you your Christmas gift!”
    The phantom was suddenly beside Kopec smiling his sardonic grin. He held a thick black book in his hands.
    “It’s your journal, Steven.” Simon smiled somberly. “The story of your life.” He raised his ruby goblet in a salute. “I published a first (and last) edition for the party – not that anybody
    reads. But no matter, we’ll enjoy it later as a performance piece.”
    The Book of Others by Steven Kopec, was darkly embossed on the jet-black cover. The phantom fanned the manuscript’s pages in Kopec’s face. They were black and empty, a flurry of wind in a crypt, a desolate void.
    “Nothing from nothing leaves nothing.” The phantom shrugged. “I did enjoy your disappearance and suicide.”
    “At midnight, black confetti will fall.” Simon mused. “Black snow descending on the party from the marble dome. Steven’s Storm, a shroud to drop a curtain on this Holy Night.”
    “Signifying nothing!” The goddess laughed.
    The room began to reel. There was a black fog in his brain. Kopec’s temples pounded. He felt insane. He gripped the chair and closed his eyes. Like a nightmare, Simon’s Christmas swirled inside his mind. It was a dream of the devil, evil come to life.
    “When you do the deeds of hell, hell will come.” Kopec whispered. He searched Simon’s face in desperation.
    “Hell is here.” Simon smiled. “And hell is heaven. Satan is the holy ghost and his disciples the chosen. The armies of the night have marched across the land. Our reign will rule the world for a thousand years.”
    “I can’t see your breath.” Kopec stammered, stunned. He searched the feasters’ faces, all stratified by the nimbus.
    “Excuse me little brother?”
    “I can’t see your breath.” Kopec strained to see through the dazzle. “It’s freezing in the room and yet I can’t see your breath.”
    “Why would you?” Simon stared at him archly. “I’m not breathing.”
    The feasters roared and the Jester turned a flip. He stood on his pointed hat and spun like a top. Simon looked around the table and rolled his eyes. The goddess laughed and clapped her hands and shook with delight.
    “You’re not real.”
    Kopec shuddered as he backed away.
    “And you are?”
    “You’re not alive.” Kopec glanced around. “None of you.”
    Shivering in his shabby clothes, Kopec stood stupefied beside the phantom who still grinned at him and fanned the black pages. Suddenly, Kopec gave the smiling specter a violent shove. The robed man flew backwards through the air like a puppet on a string, glided past the ducking feasters and then flew back darkly at him. Kopec kicked the Jester and sent him hurtling. The dwarf screeched and kicked as he swung back and forth like a raucous child on a swing. Kopec whirled and plunged into the dancers, crazed and panting. He plowed through the mob like a football player and sent the revelers flying in all directions. Mannequin men and women swung to and fro amidst the kaleidoscopic light, tumbling and colliding as they flew through the air in a whirling pandemonium of screeching shadows.
    “The party prop has popped his top!”
    One of the revelers roared with laughter as he tossed madly with the others.
    “The party prop has popped his top! The party prop has popped his top!”
    The puppets laughed and jabbered as they twirled and tangled on their strings.
    The room was spinning. The world was upside down. Kopec pushed his way deliriously through the mutant marionettes in a fever dream of desperation. Crosses pelted him. Glasses shattered against his head. The spinning puppets punched and kicked him. He fought through them charged with fear and awe. Their hands tore at his clothes as he searched frantically for the door.
    “Can’t hang poet?”
    The phantom stood before him blocking his way to the foyer.
    “Get out of my way.”
    “You’re here to stay.” The phantom smiled. “There’s no way out.”
    NO EXIT, flared above the great door, a blinding neon sign. Kopec shook the latch in a frenzy. It was bolted tight. He slammed the door. It was sealed shut, like the lid on a coffin, like the cover of a crypt. He turned back and shouldered the phantom aside. He raced helter skelter through the party looking for a window or a door.
    “There’s room for one more.” The phantom smiled as Kopec ran madly through the room. “One’s a lonely number poet, enjoy your doom.”
    A flying sleigh pulled by mechanical reindeer, circled the blazing room. Simon sat in the carriage dressed in a Santa Claus suit. The goddess was seated beside him, waving at the mob below. The Jester stood atop the giant Christmas bag decked in the costume of an elf. The sleigh circled the glittering Christmas tree and rounded the spider in the dome. The Jester tossed gifts from the bag to the leaping revelers who fought for the treasures below. He dropped blockbuster movies and pop CD’s, best seller books and fan magazines, designer catalogs and television guides, money market rags and Wall Street weeklies, autographed photos of iconic celebrities, Prozac, barbiturates, and assorted amphetamines. The string-tangled puppets formed a mass on the marble floor, arms around each other, they moved in a lockstep back and forth.
    “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, riding down Santa Claus lane …”
    They laughed and chattered as they moved like a drunken spider from left to right.
    “Get me out of here phantom.” Kopec confronted the enigma, breathless and sweating.
    “It’s the same outside.”
    “Get me out of here phantom.”
    “There’s a place to hide.”
    He followed the black robed figure through the throngs. In the corner of his eye, he saw the tarantula descending the wall. A clock was striking midnight; black confetti began to fall. Puppets were catching fire from the smoldering pipes. The odd pair twisted through labyrinths, descended stairs, the robed mannequin and the shabby poet. They slipped down dungeon-like halls, through dusky cellar chambers and down torch-lit spiraling stairs. They turned a final corner and the robed puppet paused.
    “Merry Christmas!” The phantom smiled. He pointed a bony finger at an egress marked Death’s Door.

  • Flash Fiction: At the bus station (from my Helium)

    Flash?
    Image by Somalia ya swan via Flickr

    One of my Helium articles:

    It was cold… So cold. I was rushing to take the bus home through the crowds and dreaming about an ideal world in which I was the reincarnation of Bruce Lee and my kung fu was the strongest of ’em all.

    As I was preparing to cross the street, I was about to step off the sidewalk when a bus almost hit me. I backed off as quick as I could and I started hearing my heartbeat. I rushed towards the station I wanted to catch the bus as soon as possible. The station was packed. Everybody was freezing and I as soon as I arrived, I calculated where I should sit to be among the first when the bus stops. You know… I have my favourite seat I absolutely need to occupy, otherwise… well, otherwise… I’m unhappy. And the ride is quite long for me, so I need to get comfortable, right?

    Well, I did that. And I saw it. My bus. Parked close to the station, empty and with the lights turned off. Everybody was shaking, moving from one leg to the other, rubbing their palms together. There was this guy listening to music on his phone, he kept dancing with his eyes closed, sometimes smiling, other times timidly moving his lips to the lyrics. I couldn’t make out the song. At some point he sat down on the bench and went on doing his thing. A few seconds later, an old lady with a shopping trailer bag sat next to him. She was obviously unhappy with his silent musical antics. She kept shaking her head, whispering something that I thought was in the lines of “Youth these days…”.

    Then, happiness. The driver arrived and started the bus off. Happiness for everyone, everybody was smiling – at least inside. I suddenly realized it wasn’t really cold any more, it was actually really hot. The bus arrived and stopped, the doors opened and the driver invited us to get in.

    I don’t know how and when it happened, but when the bus started, there wasn’t anyone in it any more.

    “One way trip, miss?” the driver suddenly asked me. Then I realized. I never made it to the station!

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  • The Down and Out Museum Notebook

    Morning rounds, chasing phantom art alarms, poltergeist startled smoke detectors, hand radio crackling. “Cleopatra Clear.” I call Control. “Asian Art Another Ghengis Con.” Byzantine Banshees … Gothic Ghosts … Spectral Sanctum Phantasmagoria …
    I slip through light and shadow, down the corridors of dream, past the doorways of delirium, along the labyrinths of time, amidst the spoils of raided tombs, sacked cities, pilfered churches, ravaged kingdoms, robbed graves, plundered castles — the grab bag of Kings and Queens and Robber Barons. (And the howls of slaves, serfs, exploited workers).
    “In Xanadu did Kubla Khan,” I muse, as I shift down the haunted hallways, through the spotlit galleries ablaze with visions: Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Picasso, Matisse, Dali, Beckman, Turner, Tiepolo, Richter, Rembrandt, “a stately pleasure dome decree.”
    “Code Red” my radio crackles, “South Wall LLK Do You Copy First Aid?”
    Kitchen fire … someone burned … I drop a freight to the castle’s crypts, cut through the night-crawler catacombs, boiler rooms, power plants, mazes, tunnels.
    Smoke fogs the food service entrance. Black robed demons, dance above a flaming oven. Two techs from operations are foaming down the fire. First aid tends a cook’s burns in the corner. A mob of dark men and women, dressed in ghost white uniforms, huddle in groups around the stoves, sinks, pots and pans.
    “Que Pasa?” I drift into the throngs of food service workers. “Fuego muy malo.” I shake my head. “Is anyone burned?”
    The Mexicans eye me warily, back away. “Policia.” “La Chota.” They think.
    “Ustedes OK?” I try the shadowy figures again, but they fidget, make fists, turn away.
    “Kitchen Clear.” I radio Control. “Call An Ambulance … Send Down A Suit” (if you can find one).
    “Been there amigos,” I brood as I zig zag back through the belly of the beast. “Been in between nowhere and no way out.” My mind flashing back to the fearful faces, afraid of the thug in a uniform, afraid of losing what little they have — their hand to mouth jobs, claptrap shelters.
    “Anyone who has an advantage,” my old man used to say, “will take advantage of anyone who is at a disadvantage to them.”
    I guess I’ve drunk to that one in my day.

    Gallery 220 … oil on canvas … 2 small areas paint crushed from impact …
    Gallery 220 … oil on board … large white drips lower right …
    Gallery 216 … tempers panel … scratches …
    Gallery 217 … oil on canvas … swipe mark from hand …

    The morning after Free Day’s invasion of the barbarian hordes. Ever since my favorite painting, “Night Hawks,” was slashed, I approach each work with dread.

    “Hey Security, where’s that ear guy?”
    “Where’s what?”
    “That ear guy.”
    “You mean Van Gogh?”

    “Art Handlers Gallery 201.” I alert Control. “Installation Impressionism.”

    The floor sweepers are out in force. Custidians are cleaning the cases. Physical plant is checking climate control. Docents, conservation techs, carpenters, painters, electricians — the sleeping citadel is awakening from its night sweats slumber in … Paradise Lost? Dante’s Inferno? — whatever purgatory God condemns it to toss. (That other Chicago story by Upton Sinclair, The Jungle)?
    I check my watch, make one more note about the damaged painting in Gallery 272, move through the connecting door from the Old Masters section into the Executive Suites.
    Publications, Promotions, Memberships, Fundraising, Education, Finance, Curatorial, Registration — I check for waste basket fires, hazardous coffee pots, dead archivists slumped on their library shelves, Yale, Harvard, Princeton diplomas hand on every ivory castle inner santum wall. Brown, Vassar, Radcliff …
    “You Have Just Entered Civilization.” Someone from publications wants you to know.
    “Art Tells Us The Truth About Being Human.” Another office posting quotes. And my favorite, in the Director’s office, straight from the horse’s mouth, an ode to artists for their concern for the poor, tired and huddled masses and some rigmaole about how the museum values this.

    I sit in the Swastika lobby at the plush information and membership kiosk beneath the giant vase of fresh cut flowers. I know the gilded Nazi swirls which trim the ceiling of the grand marble entrance are really ancient Asian symbols for peace, hope love. But after Hitler, they are forever swastikas and somehow odly appropriate. “Food Service Setting Up Trustee’s Meeting.” I radio Control as a caravan of breakfast carts rattle through the lobby, pushed by the Mexican ghosts. “Shopkeepers Entering Store … Cashiers, Coat Checks, Entering Visitor’s Service.”
    The bee hive starts to buzz, as the drones swarm to work. These are mostly temp types, day labor style slugs you never get to know, as they’re shuffled in and out before benefits kick in: health care, sick days, raises, what they pass for pensions, vacations, personnel acess. (or they just up and leave, even if they manage to get these benefits, becuase the pay’s no good). I need a smoke. Time is pressing. The schedular called off and I’m stuck with the gigsaw puzzle of gallery guard postings: Ancient, Old Master, Contempoary, Expressionist, Impressionist, Asian, American, Rennaissance, Medival, every nook and cranny. “Escort Guards Opening Mich Entrance.” I inform Control.
    The daily round of Limos is pulling up outside. Curators crowd the lobby as tycoons sweep through the high arched doors. Grand Dames, Financiers, big money donors to be led on private tours through the museum’s lavish holdings: majestic Monet’s, priceless Picassos, passionate Van Gogh’s, nightmare Dali’s saintly Ruben’s, El Greco martyrs, benevolent Buddha’s, crucified Christ’s, weeping Mary’s, Holocaust horrors.
    I look at my watch again. The museum’s “Ghetto brigade” will be dragging in soon — the army of poverty-wage contract guards the museum harvests from the city’s slums. Many won’t show. (Low pay, no sick days, no benefits, why would they?) Those that do aren’t very effective. (I guess it’s hard to give your all on an empty stomach.) I try to place them where they’ll function best, scattered amidst the shrinking seasoned in house force, sheltered from the maddening crowds.
    “Out of the black mouth of the big king salmon.” I recall a line from a Carver poem, “Comes pouring the severed heads of herring.”
    I post myself in the museum rafters where I can listen to humanity groan.

    ****

    “Nothing offers what is encouraged when the inundations of ambiguity shape all the aspects of the variant possible. Documented, displayed, discussed, these evocations of disparate assumptions challenge our conception of the correlative conjectural. In ‘Parenthetical Contingencies,’ Focku’s latest piece, the synthesis of synergy and entropy become as iconic as the Mona Lisa, as you can see. However,” the GQ guru lifts a manicured fingertip, “you ain’t seen nothing yet folks! Follow me.”
    “Everything cool with Focku?”
    Degan, the Modern Art security manager, is suddenly beside me. We watch the gala gathering of museum Trustees follow the curator and the artist Focku through the private showing.
    “Cool as the chilled wine and cheese cubes.” I muse. “Kierkegaard cooked up his usual concoction of salami, pastrami, baloney, and fed it to the culturnoti who primly wiped their mouths with money.”
    “Now, now, don’t dis our trusty Trustees. They all live hard lots with their mansions and yachts. You keeping the riff raff out?’
    “Anyone who looks embalmed is in. All those flush with the blood, sweat, tears of life are out.”
    “Good man, you’re a credit to your guard uniform. What’s that one called? ‘Erectile Dysfunction.’”
    “Don’t fool with Focku. He’s a genius.”
    “I don’t doubt it! So, how’s your shit doing? Showing? Selling? Cutting off your ears?”
    “OK, I’ve got two big works in an upcoming anti-war exhibit at the Edge Gallery.”
    “Splendid! Horror! Pathos! Inhumanity! Insanity! No clutter of Republican collectors! Your name on an FBI list! You should ask Focku if he wants in.”
    “I think I know what he’s say.”

    ****

    A lone wolf in Poodleville is about the only way I can describe this museum-guard deal. I took it when my grunt gig at a South Side Chicago factory got shipped overseas. I was lucky to get it. It helped that I served in the army. Now, a hardscrabble job which paid pretty well, had decent benefits, treated you OK, is a smie-slave slog for some poor soul in labor hell. (This ain’t heaven, let me tell you.)
    In the room the curators come and go talking of Michaelangelo and designer hairdo’s and designer cloths and vintage wines and Lake Front condos. I’ve been stuck monitoring the back entrance lobby since the conclusion of Focku’s private little party, arms folded, face grim, factory muscles buldging through my polyester uniform — directing traffic, keeping the derelicts out, watching for known pickpockets and general ne’er-do-wells. In between my steely eyes sweeps of the bustling crowds, I’ve been scribbling out a poem about an Irag was veteran on a spiral security guard notepad. Writing or sketching is about all I do on post all day — makes up for the lousy pay.
    “You on tonight Blake?” Crawly (Creepy Crawly) the special event manager is suddenly slouching toward me, buzz haircut, buck teeth, hook nose, beady eyes. Where do they find these guys?
    “I’m short.” Crowley pokes me in the chest with his clipboard. “Let me put that up front. Volunteers get on my good side. You know how it goes for the rest.”
    The Million Dollar Donor wingding — the big annual ass kisser that goes on past midnight.
    The rich they are not like you and I.” Someone once said to someone. I think it was Fitzgerald to Hemingway. Trucks have been pulling up since noon. Which is the main reason they stuck me on this post — to direct the musicians, jugglers, dancers, caterers, florists, even organizers, contract waiters, waitresses, and extra hired hands of every description, as well as the befuddled museum staff (curators, lecturers, toadies, executives) who never seem to get the ins and outs as to the way these big affairs function.)
    “I didn’t sign up.”
    Crawley’s beady eyes bore through me like lazar beams. His breath hisses like a radiator (in the dead of winter) past his smoke stained buck teeth.
    “What are you writing, Blake?” Crawley looks down at my hands. “Something happen in the lobby today, Blake? Are you writing an incident report> Let me see it.”
    He sticks out his hand.
    “I was just jotting down some notes about the cash changing job.” I tuck my poem into my blazer pocket and give Crawley a lazy shrug. “I’ve got to train Johnson on the detail tomorrow — safe combinations, pick ups, drop off. The usual stuff.”
    “You do that stuff on your own time!” Crawley goes ballistic on me. “You’re supposed to be monitoring this lobby, not scribbling in a book! That stuff constitutes a write up! Three of those and you’re out! Ever here of OT Blake? You come in early for things like that! Got a problem with putting a little extra time in for the museum?”
    “Actually I was wondering if I could get on the roster for tonight? I was hoping you weren’t filled up.”
    “You’re on. Crawley chortles as he walks away.
    What did Creepy Crawley want?”
    Romeo Ramero is suddenly beside me, looking grim.
    “He signed me up for tonight. It was that or a write up.”
    “Me too.” Ramero’s eyes flare. “And I met this chick in Photo and hour ago. I’m supposed to meet her after work.”
    “I wanted to get home and finish this painting.” I grumble. “There’s a deadline. I was lucky to be asked to submit something.”
    “Tell you what.” Ramero’s eyes narrow. “Heere’s what we do. At euight o’clock I call Control from a pay phone. I tell them I’m your brother. There’s a family emegency and you got to be there. Crawly has to let you go. He’s got no choice about that. We both know he’s too lazy to follow up on the paperwork. Everything will be forgotten before you know it.”
    “What about you?”
    “Next time, amigo.”

    ****

    Out of the black, star-domed unknown, nothingness rushes in with a scream — a shrieking circular, no more which mangles the jungle night with flames. Afghanistan, worse now than its ever been, death, agony, destruction … and all for what — nothing? Slanting forward, I slash the canvas with colliding colors, fractured planes, splintered perspectives,tortured rythms, writing, twisting, figures …
    Soaked with sweat and splattered with paint I ponder the huge, crazy conflagration of shapes. It looks like nothing so much as a Hieronymus Bosch (on hash) or maybe some asylum inmates “art therapy piece. But I guess that’s war. “Art tells us the truth about being human.” So does a bullet.

    ****

    Fate, I ruminate. What you elect? What you reject? Seems always to be something you don’t expect. Unless you’re rich. I look around the blue-collar bar, nurse my drink, contemplate my painting. Having cleaned up the apartment, I’m out for a nightcap, giving the day a recap. Half the guys in here have been laid off with the recession. More will be, or forced to take jobs that suck like me. Maybe join the army? War, politicians, poverty, Wall Street, corporate greed, exploited labor, lavish parties, Creepy Crawley —
    fate is in the hands of whose dealing the cards and we all know who they are.
    Cubical people live in corporate cells.” I toast life’s wishing wells. “Artists live in fairy tales. We all die in lullabies. Pleasant dreams and goodnight.”

    End

  • On the Town

    Slow night on Shadow Street, where you never meet anyone you know and every place you go was never there before and will be altogether different tomorrow.

    “Quiet night.”

    I say to the barkeep at the bistro, looking over the sparse crowd of irregular regulars in the
    unfamiliar room where I stop every evening on my way home.

    “I wouldn’t know, never worked here before. What will you have, the usual?”

    “The usual, for a change. But not the same ole same ole again.”

    “Nowhere is everywhere when nothing is anything,” I brood as I gaze in the mirror at the face of the stranger who looks back at me, indifferently, “and everyone is no one when someone is anyone.”

    Now and then, someone I never saw before and will never meet again stops for a drink and
    we resume the same conversation we never had which ends, as usual, before it begins with
    nothing being said.

    “Did you ever overhear yourself talking to yourself in a language you don’t understand?”
    A businessman stares at me starkly holding a martini in his manicured hand.

    “May I make a suggestion?” The barkeep, who has changed his identity and now is me sets a drink down in front of who I used to be. “Instead of that try this.”

    Light flows around my mental breakdown. A golden mist in which nothing exists replaces it.

    “What is it?”
    I smack my lips.

    “It’s called Forgetfulness.”

    ******

    The combo in the cabaret can’t quite coordinate their conga today. But they continue to play (badly) anyway. Dressed for dinner, the Diva, ceremoniously, enters holding a dead bouquet.

    “We played to an empty theater.” She announces to the world weary waiter who tosses her ermine on the radiator. “But it really doesn’t matter. We merely closed sooner than later.”

    The black cat curled up by the cabinet, dreams of falling nine times from a parapet.
    “No one will catch you.”
    Says a voice in his purring brain and his recurring nightmare begins all over again.

    Brooding beneath his beard, like a repentant behind a confessional curtain, the bard at the bar orders a bottle of Vichy water and canard in a voice without pitch like a ventriloquist. (Which no one finds especially ridiculous.)

    The old couple in the corner hold hands and gaze at each other (and remember) knowing
    that they both soon will be goners.

    The siren at the next table checks her compact mirror and finds another wrinkle.

    The drunk staggering across the floor is determined to make it with dignity to the door.
    (Since he can’t afford to imbibe anymore.)

    White mice scurry to and fro, up and down the crowded bistro, scavenging for food as
    they go, back and forth, in and out, hoping that nobody will notice.

    Shooting stars suddenly fill the night. We watch them fall from the cabaret’s sky light. And we smile with delight at the wonderful sight of the heavens exploding with celestial light.

    ******

    The scary lair of sleep where white mice in lab smocks dance around alarm clocks. Is it a
    good time, bad time, standing before me, tonight, in the snow – this new version of apparition guarding the shadowy, night world’s black hole?

    “Well, well.” The poltergeist studies me, mockingly. “Do tell.”

    It’s wearing gaudy, glad rags instead of garbage bags, a Mardi Gras mask, a tilted top hat over a carnival colored fright-wig, and holding a shrunken-head filled whirl-a-gig.

    “Are you ready to make merry? If so, away we go!”

    Ghost haunts, spectral walks, dead zones fogged by smoke and gin. Up and down, round and round, falling down, we stagger through night town – dancing in dungeons with demons, gamboling with goblins and cretins, cavorting with catatonics in catacombs, wooing witches, making mad love with mummies, playing Russian roulette with zombies.

    “What’s next?” I smile at the dream fairy. “That was merry.”

    “How about a little snow therapy?”

    We fashion snow dreams in the dark under the moon and stars, making “Frosty” men and
    women with charcoal studded eyes, icicle noses and cinder dust grins, we shape angels in the drifts, igloos, Eskimos, polar bears, castles, draw water from the park’s pond and sculpt ice palaces along the moonlit snow mounds. Suddenly, the sun comes up and we watch it all melt.

    ******

    BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

    Daylight on drawn blinds – I rub my eyes and take some time to come to myself in the haunted house.

    “We will never part.” I remember some siren whispering in the dark. “Our love is here to stay.” I try to recall her face.

    Cobwebs cluster in the corners. Bats flit to and fro. Creatures circle the bed like the walking dead. A psychotic eye peeks through my keyhole.

    I was midnight mad and on the loose. I found her number in a telephone booth.

    “Come in from the night!” was scribbled under it in lipstick. “Experience delight!” “Don’t be so uptight!” “If it feels good it’s right!”

    A costume party? A ceremony? I remember a potent drink – and then everything went blank?

    “It is you that I adore; our love will last forevermore.”

    Dancing puppets on a parapet encircle my brain like a tourniquet.

    What do you do after work?

    End

  • All the Pretty Ballerinas

    The whirl of white dresses between the matrix of mirrors, morph into a wreath of white ashes in Lonigan’s reveries, or visions of angels amidst a holocaust, leaping, twirling, pirouetting …
    Sitting on the floor in a corner of the dance studio, Lonigan draws circles, spirals, parabolas on his ragged sketch pad, trying to capture the poetry in motion flying across the room to the plunk of a rehearsal piano as Degas once did long ago. War went on then too.
    One two three four what are we fighting for? The words of that old protest song fall out with each cord.
    When Lonigan went off to war, he knew he would never come back – at least not with his mind in tact – and he didn’t, which is why he used the G.I. Bill to go to art school instead of studying something practical.
    Up and down round and round – right, wrong, truth or dare, upside down, inside out. Makes one wonder what the dance of life is all about?

    ****

    Dark, rocky days in dead zones (like a dream but not) where nowhere is everywhere and
    nothing is anything and unknown hours fade to black.
    “The end of the world is at hand, man.”
    The alley man stares at him, starkly, gripping a Sterno can.
    Lonigan shadows through the snowfall, past doors which have no numbers, down streets
    which have no names, through shapes which have no faces, under clocks run out of time, while
    wind whipped shrouds swirl around like the ghosts of dead men’s dreams.
    “Death toll mounts!” A newsy shouts. “More troops killed!”
    He buys a paper, uses it for a hat. White veils wrap around him like wreaths, as he bundles down the ghosted streets, past the small grubby pubs and around toppling ghetto tenements, along the rows of shops filled with such stuff that only the poor would want. “I am a soldier of misfortune and” Lonigan muses as he marchs through the deepening drifts, “I fought that holy war on the desert sand.”
    At a dead end dive, Lonigan ducks in from the cold. DEATH TOLL REACHES 4,000. he scans the headlines as he slump onto a stool. “Draft.” He tells the barman and drops a fistful of day labor dollars on the counter. STOCKS PLUMMET, PLANTS CLOSE, RECESSION DEEPENS, UNEMPLOYMENT FIGURES DISAPPOINTING, HOUSES CONTINUE TO FORECLOSE. He shakes his head and broods through an article about Iraq, relives the ambushes, roadside bombings, heat, fear, and remembers the faces of guys no one will see anymore.
    A fairyland of falling snow, whorls in the barroom window. Crystal castles and other
    fanciful marvels replace the tumbledown ghetto, while white winged spirits dance off the drifts,
    fly with the flurries, twirl and pirouette.
    “4,000 souls,” Lonigan muses, “ gone where nobody knows.”

    ****

    “She’s beautiful.”
    Tracey sits with Lonigan in his studio and ponders his latest painting.
    “She isn’t done.”
    “Who’s the model?”
    “Death.”
    “You’re crazy! Hey, I know that girl! She’s that ballerina, your old flame. How come you never paint me?”
    “I only paint what I hate.”
    “You do not!”
    “War, plague, famine, betrayal – I’ll paint you next, call it Midnight Angel.”
    “Where are you going?”
    Lonigan moves from the couch to the easel, takes a hair of the dog on the way, squints as the sunlight sets the canvas ablaze. Fat Cats, the Jet Set, the artsy social whirl, play in his memories of the pretty ballerina, along with some specter of himself, who quickly became an inconvenient oddity amidst that rarefied swirl she lived in with his hard scrabble sketches of working class life, battlefield drawings, paintings of the down and out.
    “Why are you doing that?”
    Lonigan ghosts out the goddess with a solvent-soaked rag, fades her beauty, erases her eyes.

    ****
    “Dear Mr. Lonigan,

    Thank you so much for your submission to our agency. Yours is a well written and compelling collection of stories. However, after careful consideration we decided we are not the right agency for Mine Fields. We urge you to keep searching for the right fit.”

    “Dear Mr. Lonigan,

    Your collection of war stories is a riveting read. Some of the descriptions make you stand up and salute. Unfortunately, we don’t think we can handle it successfully. We wish you the best with placing it elsewhere.

    “Dear Mr. Lonigan,

    Thank you for your submission of slides to our gallery. After careful consideration we have decided they are not quite right for our collection.”

    ****

    “Artists live where all dreams end. Truth, illusion, are a dance of apparitions. You try to capture it but smoke and mirrors is what you usually get. Sometimes, if your lucky, life’s magic.”
    Black winds chase across the concrete canyons. Designer dream worlds appear in storefront windows. On corners Christmas carolers sing the season’s songs.
    As he bundles through the cold, looking in the windows of galleries and bookstores, collar turned up, fists pushed deep in the pockets of his long coat, Lonigan ponders his latest artist’s statement. The streets are crowded with tourists, shoppers. He passes a frail old lady asleep in a doorway, goes back an drops a coin in her cup, as snowflakes circle each pale ghost lost in the nimbus of the street’s night glow, where all is silent, still and cold.

    End