flashback: that bird has flown

i finally got down to the club – the one that’s now an italian restaurant – and it was a 21 + over show. wouldn’t you believe it? just my luck. big john would hook me up, though, if i carried equipment in for the bands and promised not to steal any drinks from the tables.

i was thirteen.

she was older, in her twenties maybe, and i knew she’d be there. i’d see her around the neighborhood, sometimes on the steps at the house on chesterfield lane or riding through in a white car. she was the punk rock girl who worked at the bank, and i would glance through the glass double doors trying to see her smile whenever i walked by.

there was a small crowd like a figure-8 near the back by the t-shirt hole. the girl was standing closer to the door with a cigarette in her hand and her other girl friends closed their half of the eight and the guys – close by – closed the other. a band started their set but i can’t remember who it was. the caterwaul caught me like a breaking wave behind my back. i winced when the drums cracked and she saw and she smiled and she laughed. it was all blue skies and sunny days.

i managed to open my mouth for a one-way conversation:

hi, uh

well, say, uh

what do you think of this band?

…man…

i’ve never seen these guys before.

…gee…

i think they're pretty new wave.

they have a little, uh

…they’ve got kinda R.E.M., ya think and…

i think they’re

they're kinda riding the crest, so to speak.

can i get you something?

maybe, uh

a daiquiri…or a margarita?

…oh…

you don’t wanna dance with me?

i guess its true, you can’t really dance to this kind of music now can you.

i know billy idol says you can dance by yourself

but i'd rather dance with you

you don’t wanna?

no?

oh

…ok…

all she did was smile like gold while her friends laughed at me behind her. she never spoke a word. and when she turned to leave with two of her girls before the set ended, she just waved. and i felt like that was it.

that was it, man.

that was the sign.

outside the club, in the setting sunshine, she disappeared between buildings and escaped to the boulevard below. i shambled after among the weeds and broken bottles to see her again, but that fleeting perfect moment slipped through my fingers, like between tenement walls, and down side streets and alleyways with no names. but i kept on keepin’ on, running faster, twisting the rocks and ash underneath a foot planted for a moment. running, man, i was running. running like enough to make my chest hurt running, running like to make my eyes tear running. running like from the cops running. running. running, man, i was running.

you know i thought i could have had her. i saw her and the others round a bend towards a parking lot by the corner store. i opened my mouth to call her name but the words, they let me down. when i hit the lot the lights hit me back, and she was gone, man. over the curb and down the avenue in a white car with a black boyfriend.

i tried to feel nothing.

i stayed on that block a while that night, sat back against the building bricks in a raining December. soon, an old woman shuffled from the shadows to sit down next to me. i was scared, but gave her a dime when she asked and a smoke. she kissed my cheek. “do all your girls smoke these things?” she said, and pulled two cans of beer from a bag with a toothless smile.

i drank in the chill of an early winter.