Red Door Painters

"Long time, no see...", the hand stretched out towards me is outsized and at an odd angle and I'm taken aback for a moment, as it hasn't been that long, and usually I'm the first one to say hi.

"Yeah, how are you?"

"Good, good". I turn back to spinning my whiskey round and round in the rocks glass, watching it chage color as the red bar lights hit it at different angles, letting the bartender get back to work. The place is dead, and they're shutting down. The crowd of off-shift workers are piled up at one end of the bar, and I'm all the way down at the other, just me and that whiskey, spinning, spinning. It's nearly last call, and I've got a long way to walk home, but I'm getting ahead of myself here...

It's quarter to twelve and dinner is all cleaned up. I look down and see that the MP3 player has finished charging, so I grab it, put in the earphones, throw on my sweatshirt and walk out the door, tossing the hood over my head as I go. I adjust the player to repeat and let the lyrics tear my heart out over and over until I start to numb to them.

Sorry that, I could never love you back...

I walk down the street, zipping the hoodie up further, hands in my pockets against a very slight chill, and I start to walk in pace to the song.

I could never care enough, in these last days

At the main intersection I turn and head out of the residential area into the corner with the shops and restaurants and I think for a bit about going straight, past the new bar and towards the park, but I know that's not where I'm headed and I take a left instead.

Her tears fell, on her pages found me well...

I'm warming up now and the hands come out of the pockets to take off the hood, then swing naturally down beside me in pace with my footsteps which I can't hear through the sound coming out of the headphones.

On her words I don't know what, to do or say...

Down 30th street all the way, through the canyon and into the next neighborhood, past the bars still open, and then cutting right accross, seeing another new bar with a crowd out front, but deciding not to stop in yet. I'm holding down on a full bladder and, while I could use their restroom, wherever I stop in is going to be the end of the line, and I'm not nearly tired enough yet. 'Maybe I'll walk to the golf course and find a tree, then come back if I feel like it', I tell myself, but I know I'll keep going.

Wading through, warm canals and pools clear blue, Tuscarows flow into, The Great Lakes

I used to walk all the time, in high school, in college. Late at night when I had no business being up, sometimes with an old Sony tape-player walkman and sometimes without. I'd head out in a meandering line, always away, never closer, until my feet couldn't take it anymore, which was a long way back then, and then I'd turn around and come back.

Riding back, where the highways left dead tracks...

I'd usually be exhausted enough and sore and pulvarised so that I could actually get back to sleep when I got home, and that was the idea here today (though here I am, at the computer rather than in bed) and that's why, after walking through the grass to water a tall oak by the fence to the golf course, I kept walking down the lawn, shoes now wet and left laces coming untied.

What about the sweetness we knew?

When I stopped to crouch down and fix my laces, I smelled dirt and decaying leaves from the bushes behind me, and I thought of nudie magazines, because when we were kids we would find them in the woods and their pages smelled just so. Then back onto the sidewalk and I kept on going, right again, and down the hill and up the other side.

What bout what's good, what's true?

I crossed 26th street just before it turns into Florida and thought that it might be a quicker way to take home, but I knew there was no way I'd be walking down that street alone at night. I am not a superstitous man, but I have seen the ghost children run out in front of my car and dissappear as I drove up that hill, and I have smelt the distinct and comforting smell of my grandfather's room hanging in the air along the side of that road, with no discernable source. I've sat at the bottom, exausted and felt the power of the place, there among the stand of trees that lines the path along the road. I'm not going down there. I have lost bone and blood and flesh on this street and I am afraid it may be hungry for more.

Can't count to, all the lovers I've burned through...

So on I go, past the old apartment, around the final corner, stopping at the ATM for $20 I really shouldn't be spending right now, and into the bar and "It's good to see you, It's been a while".

I finish my drink and nod to the bartender on my way out the door, back round the corner, past the alley leading to the old apartment, where I think of maybe heading back over there, to see if anyone lives in the old place. If it's free, I think, I could just walk right in there to the cabinets built into the wall, and open the middle one, reaching around the plank above it, behind the boarded over section, lifting down a box full of belongings I couldn't bring myself to throw out, but knew weren't going to make the move with me.

So why do I still burn for you?

But no, this is not that kind of walk.

I can't say

Down B Street all the way back to 30th, and it's quicker this time, because B Street has no hills. There's cats everywhere, looking at me, darting accross the corner of my vision, and haven't I always said that the cats in South Park are up to something? No matter. Left on 30th, down the long road through the canyon and I'm thinking of the homeless and the children and all the sad stories I've heard and I'm tired now, and it's getting to me, so I keep on walking because, really, what other choice do I have?

Sorry that, I could never love you back...

I take an early right this time and cut back through to my street the back way, and there, in the wall behind the bamboo, there's a red door that wasn't there before, and a red door means prosperity. I was told that not too long ago. Maybe someone lives there who knows.

I could never care enough, in these last days.

Round the last corner onto my street and the only house with a light on the porch has a red door also. There are signs everywhere if you know how to read them.

Touching this felt so, felt warm, on my face...

Neary there now and I'm very aware of my legs wobbling on the pavement. The walk wasn't too long, but it's after 2 AM and I lifted hard at the gym. I avoid stepping on the cracks, 'step on a crack, break your mother's back', and the idea that I've been walking the whole time without stepping on them comes into my head. I have to force my eyes up from the ground and just keep walking.

A Million miles ago, you seem, the star that I just don't see anymore

One mustn't let the mind wander too far, so close to home.

Words long gone, lost on journies we walked on...

The song stops and it's several seconds before it picks up again at the beginning, and I can hear my footsteps now, plain and clear and overlound in the night, and why didn't I hear them before, all the times the song has looped?

Sorry for, never going by you door, never feeling love like that, anymore.

Several more blocks and there's my car in the driveway.

Heal her soul, carry her my angel...

Home.