NIGHT CAPS

His late-night ring sounded - wind chimes. Who the

hell wants alarms going off in the dark. Get enough

of that all day. He had a meditation playlist on,

something he often worked to, in this, his late introspective state... Mulling within his medicated, meditative, machinations.

There it was again...was that his cell?… or the organic sound effects mixed into the waterfall and lute serenade, now playing on his headset. No, now

his phone was flashing - "who the hell..." Assuming it was work related, irritated at the interruption and blatant imposition, he caught a breath, to calm him before answering, but the breath was not cleansing enough, as the edge was apparent-

Yes!?

"Oh I'm sorry. Did I wake you? You're angry”, she

responded. He didn't know the voice, but liked the

sound of it.

"No. no… I'm good. Working on

something...awake...who...?

Of course you wouldn't remember...so brief...

I know you? We met?

At the station? Last week...I'm in music...you gave

me your card....you're the designer?"

The music lady. Yes. My neighbor!

Ha! that's me. Can I borrow some sugar?

You took my picture.

I did.

I didn't take your picture...

Because you're shy.

Who had time to try? Besides, I can't look too hot @

6 AM....can only imagine what the shot looked like. That really was unfair.

It was, and, yes, I'm overtly aggressive but that's me

and the business I'm in. Sorry if ... I simply have no

parameters.

I guess not. That’s not always a bad thing. But, now you're calling after midnight on a work night? Did you just random call to chat?...or do you have a gig?…as in, Work maybe?

No gig, not yet, we barely met... but we produce

forty artists, so…

Impressive. In that case, Did you check out my portfolio links?

We did.

We?

It's a big company. The more eyes on your work the

better. That's how it works. Nice work, by the way...

Thanks. I appreciate the exposure. Can I repay

you...personally...? ....buy you drink or dinner....or

maybe just coffee and a muffin? Get to know you?

I regret I have a man in my life already.

If you regret it, maybe you should forget it.

He gives me no regrets, ever. And you're not all that

shy, so don't try to reel me in.

I knew it! It was a lousy picture. Don't judge. I'm much better looking...and charming, in the evening. So please delete it! Don't want your man to see it! Big

Trouble….

Yes he is, but We do not mess with each others

devices.

You don't share?

There are devices we share because they are

meant to be shared, but we do respect the other’s

private devices.

Unless invited...

Exactly.

Well, then I demand a re-shoot. Please. Before

somebody sees it.

Someone already has. She's with me.

Is this a joke? Are you toying with me?

No we're not. 'She' was the 'we' I was referring to.

She's the Head of Visuals, so I mentioned you

over drinks tonight. She wanted to see your picture.

No! You showed her!? See...?!

Relax. I told her you were 'interesting...'

Interesting?

She liked what she saw....(surprise, surprise). So she

came up and we checked out your portfolio online.

She like my work?

Hold on. 'You like his work?" She just smiled and

said ahhhh-huh, and She's still smiling!

She's at your place?...now?

That's right.

You're in the south tower?

Yes.

Facing which direction?

North.

Huh...

What's that?

I'm in 'the North'...facing south.

What floor?

Twenty two...

Eighteen...

Your lights on?

No. .... Just a work light, rest of the place is dark… what about yours?

Oh yes. We're standing, looking out, enjoying the view and our Night cap.

What's your friend’s name?

"Monica" the new voice chimed in.

Hello Monica.

Hello Darren. I must admit, you two are confusing

me with the north-south talk. Carla what building are

we talking about?

The one facing you Missy. You don't need your

glasses, it’s a big building...

Right there? So close?! That's unreal!

I know. Darren turn your lights on-and-off for us so we know where you are.

They are – just flipped them on.

Didn't see it. Are your drapes drawn?

They are.

Care to open them and let Monica meet you from

across the way?

Sure, okay. Here you go....

OH My!

Well LOOK at you Mr. Portfolio!

Sorry ladies, this is how I work...and relax..

You mean that's relaxed ?!

I can't deny you ladies didn't arouse my curiosity…

Clearly.

Definitely. I think I'd like my glasses....

Good thing my man's not here...mmm.

Have you always been an exhibitionist, Mr. ...?

Mykowski. Darren. Never. So now what?

What 'what'?

I'm standing here on exhibition for all to see...

Yes you are.

Indeed.

So would you ladies like to join me?

No way are we coming over there. We don't know

anything about you!

Am I hiding anything? Here, allow me to twirl

around...am I hiding anything?

Nothing obvious. And, you should stop twirling...it's

strange and people are watching.

They might think...I dunno...I...oh, my! … Mr. Mykowski, must you?!

Somebody join me! It's quite liberating!

No way, not me. What...?

In that case, Carla, leave the room.

Are you serious?! You are one kinky bitch missy!

No one hears about this...

Never.

So please...leave. Allow me to draw the drapes for a

moment, Darren. Stand by.

I am standing.

You certainly are. I will be right back.

The window went dark, but only to be lit a minute later, and there in the light doing a naked handstand with long legs extended on the horizontal she balanced steady and turned slowly. Darren let out a barely audible, ohhh.

Awfully quiet. You there, Darren?

Nowhere else I'd want to be in this moment – so gymnastics, huh?

Ballet.

She then bent and rolled gracefully into a full stand,

before raising one leg vertical... up over her head, toes to the sky, with nothing to hide.

I ... You are very talented...I won't embarrass myself

by trying that and falling on my ass..I suddenly feel I need a fig leaf...oh, wow! Cartwheels! Can we meet? I

mean...

You were right Darren. This is liberating, isn't it?

...a date?

This IS our date Darren. I've never done or felt

anything like it. I want to do it again...and keep

doing it.

Wow, how can you do that behind your head? That's

impossible! We need to get together! Please Monica

you're killing me!

There's a lovely tension going on here, don't you think? Ever felt this tension before, Darren?

No. Never.

Exactly.

C'mon!

Don't beg or demand or you'll ruin it, Darren. Enjoy it and work on yours!

What?

I want to see what you can do...how you do it...next

time, Darren, surprise me.

Next time?

We'll call you.

WE?

That's a distinct possibility, if I know Carla.

That's crazy.

Goodnight, Darren.

The window went black. Darren is left holding

his....pose.

So began the midnight rendezvous. Monica would

become an eager weekly partner, so graceful and

creative, whereas Carla, once she joined, and felt the urge, was less predictable, less pliant, more stationary, but made up for it with some blatant hedonistic heat. Carla's boyfriend even gave it a try on one occasion. I would guess it was at her urging, because he left in a huff, not finding 'the fun' in the game. There was no joy in his performance and Darren was relieved not to see the big dude nude, and hoped never to meet him on the street. 

Carla and Monica did a duet that he'd never forget.

Then other rooms started to light up, different nights.. one here, one there. They came on randomly - old folks, young ‘marrieds’ in consummation, same-sex couples...some kinky, some flamboyant, others, clumsy, flabby, tight, shy, or self-gratifying, and one very angry...all nudes in the cubes, baring, daring, the anonymous night eyes upon them.

See me! 

We all saw.

When the day was finally arranged and Monica and I met in person, it was pleasant and polite. We blushed and laughed with our shared intimate knowledge, yet quickly came to realize how much we didn't know...strangers face-to-face in the sun - different people - different light - different voice - and the eyes, they spoke. The 'liberation' was over, leaving only  reality and barriers, between us. Fantasy had died somewhere in-between. I could sense her shame, or was that her disappointment in me?

We never saw each other again.  My portfolio was discarded with the lust - no further word. But I did receive several options 'out-of-the-blue'....and oddly enough, nothing stopped Carla, me, or any of the others from perpetuating the ritual. In fact, on some nights, the numbers are down-right conspicuous!  

Wait...sorry...I must stop as I write...another story beckons, as yonder shines a new light.

V

BITSEY's BUSINESS

Wendell felt the tingle of the vibrating phone under

his left buttock, but endured it and sat quietly

awaiting his turn. “No cellphones” the signs read and

there were many reminders about the office. He

thought the one over the urinal was a bit much, but

secretly hoped there was one in each stall. It disturbed Wendell that men, and surely women, felt comfortable chatting while shatting without regard for the receiver on the other end.

There were sounds being made that anyone with a

trace of grace or dignity surely would not release in

public, or certainly face-to-face, yet sensed it

safe and sanitary, if scatterd over the airwaves.

Gas, grunts, groans, and gushers...nothing seemed to matter, not even the flushes. “Gross.”

He suspected it was Bitsy on the line as she'd dial

back time-after-time, and would continue until she

got the news she expected to hear, answering the question of the year - did you get the job?!!!

He ignored her texts, and resented the

pressure, yet understood her motivational fear and

fixation.

The door to the inner offices opened and a jolly man

was clapping the rail-thin collegiate heartily on the

back, and when he saw that, Wendell's spirits went

slack. The decision had apparently been made. His interview would be perfunctory, brief and efficient, but his prize, and his pride, would be empty when he exited.

After a firm handshake and jovial " We SHALL be in

touch, Mr Klump. Can I call you Jimmy?"

"You may call me whatever you please, sir."

They shared their laughter down the hallway, where the round man held the door and bade the younger man 'good day'.

The round man returned, and looked around for another likely candidate, but found only Wendell, gazing up from his frayed Readers Almanac with keyed-up anticipation.

"You the last?", the man asked, barely hiding his irritation. Wendell arose and held out his hand, but the man gestured instead, to follow. So Wendell followed, as his butthole tingled," give it a break, Bitsy!", he thought, as he lagged behind, much like following his hangman to the gallows.

The round man sat down, his leather chair gasping

for air, let out a pphhhuuusssshhh, as it compressed

beneath his girth. The round man then murmured as he reviewed Wendell's resume, then stood up smartly, and with Wendell expecting the worst, the man said, "Allow me to relieve myself", as a statement, not a question,then smartly left the room.

Bitsy dialed again, and this time Wendell extracted

the phone and saw her text:
"how is it going?"

"Not good" he tapped.

"You blow the interview?"

"No, but geezer doesn't like me."

"Can you change his mind?"

"Doubtful"

“He there?”

“Toilet.”

“Ugh.”

“Gotta go!”

“Put your phone on his desk!”

“NO!”

"Do it or you're dead."

So he did as she said. He felt the floor rumble as

the big man returned and flopped back in his chair

and start to shuffle papers, and resume reviewing the resume where he had left off. Then he stopped and noticed the phone. He stared for awhile then said, 

" ...this yours?"

Oh, yes sir, just letting my wife know I'm running

late...sorry I..."

" I see. Yes, I understand...Women."

"Yes, Sir."

"When can you start?"

"What!?"

“The sooner the better!”

There were handshakes and affirmations, and

Wendell could not control his excitement. As he took

the elavator back down, he had to let Bitsy know!

But it would seem Bitsy was well ahead, as on the

screen she posed, wickedly wide and explicit, with a message that read:

" Can't wait to meet you, and soon! "

V

Hank Had It Wrong

Hank had the wrong

expectations

Hank lost his sense of

Proportion

In his own

Importance,

wrapped 

within

ignorance,

his Destiny

manifest.

ripped and tattered

 mast snaps

him

struggling

 Standing

but staunch

resolute 

against the gale

intrepid

against the blast

...Hank?

Final storm.

Let go the wheel

let expectation

run aground

We are all gravel

Under the steamroll

 Crush of waves

more shore mulch

than matter
Ground back 

into ground

Hank sank,

so wrong

now sand,
never found

SOMETIMES YOU BUST

Prescott Wright spent the night pondering, perched on a hill over the city, and navigating his passages for nostril grit. He found his haul to be impressively substantial, and, once mined, balled, and compacted, he flicked the bits at the city beyond.

“Fuck you people, “ he spoke aloud.

You see, all was not right for P. Wright. He was an angry man, with undeniable purpose. Jailed and fined for a crime he could not have committed. He had dutifully provided the proof, but evidence back then…well, it just clogged the system, so they flushed P. Wright right down, and avoided the annoyance. 'Good day.'

Make that 90 days and pay the fine upon release.'

The fine was of such a significant amount, that the only way Wright could possibly pay was to post his own sign, out-front, saying “Farm For Sale”. His fields fallen fallow, his crop to dust, in his mind his father is saying, “It’s farming, son. Sometimes you bust”.

“Sorry, Daddy, I broke it,” he spoke to the sky. 

The sky murmured, then rumbled low, like gastric distress, thus causing P. Wright to laugh-maniacal at the bad, sad, coincidence. This, before his soul caved in and he wept at the rebuke. Foul as it may be. Another backhand from the old man, and this time P. knew he had it coming. His father was a hard man, not a bad one, and P. accepted, what he perceived to be ‘just punishment’ as administered, because they both knew, that would be his measure as a man.

Yet, here, as a man, 
he wept
the child-tears 
he'd avoided
all those 
years

with no one 
left to hear

V

SENTENCING

I am trying to conduct a sentence…

That either means you are constructing a word sequence rather poorly, or you are rendering a punishment… which might it be?

C) all of the above

Ah. Is the death penalty involved?

Hasn’t been invoked…

Good.

…as of yet.

What grounds might there be?

For Death?

Yes.

That might be a fluid conversation…

Between?

Me and Miss Judgments.

I see - Does the penalty fit the crime?

I would anticipate.

And, if administered?

Oh, if administered, it will far 

exceed the crime,

relative to it’s cruelty

Really?!…exceed, you say?

Is that not what revenge consists of ?…exceeding ‘the other’ ?

And is there not normally an irrational ratcheting up of cruelty?…just…naturally!? I mean - It’s fucking REVENGE!

So, feel free to be cruel?

Absolutely! A twist of evil irony, reflected in the eyes of the adversary, while

‘Mercy’ is not a word in her dictionary, nor ‘Compassion’ in her vocabulary, he witnesses the demon he had hoped he would be but finds he’s failed miserably and mercy is only a prayer whispered in hope’s last breath…As the bitch’s vicious vengence, becomes a victorious validation of everything she had envisioned.

(‘Vat?’) Well …in that case…No, I am not having an affair.

In that case, we’ll delay the sentencing…

Thank you.

…and we’ll put a cap on the decapitation…

for 'the duration'…pending…

Pending?

Bad behavior.

How bad?

The worst.

So no decapitation, if I give d’ copulation?

Exactly. Now, how do you wish to be executed?

So you were conducting a sentence, after all! Bravo.

Guilty, Your Honor, … so very guilty.

Very well, let's put an end to this patter, and get down to illicit matters.

I was hoping that would be your first stop.

V 

A LIGHT IN THE FIELD

O

The boy stood alone in the dark, barely 
a silhouette, easy to mistake for another reedy stack, standing gangly in the midst of a still, fallow field, on a sweaty night, somewhere way out in the outskirts.

Cicadas, mosquitos, an owl, and the boy.

“How did you get out here, son?” spoke the voice, from deep in the dark, shattering the calm.

The jolt, unexpected as summer lightning, struck the boy like a bolt up his anus, his spine, a hot conduit for the roar of the shock that exploded in his head. Panic. He imagined he burst out of his skin, but, nonetheless, was ready to hit the ground running when he came down, even if it meant leaving his skin behind in order to save his ass.

“Don’t move.” The growl spoke. And the boy did his best while his head was still in the air, could not feel the ground beneath his feet, and hoping his heart would start to beat once again, and gravity did not count as motion

“I do mean, ‘don’t move’, understand?”

“Ya…yes…yes…”

“I would be suspicious of this circumstance and suspect you might be trying to catch a glimpse of my daughter. Would I be justified?”

“NO! what ?… no!” the boy’s heart rate, newly jolted, was now racing. “I wouldn’t…”

“I …would!...normally be highly suspicious, to be honest with you. But, if you are some peeping tom, come creeping around my daughter, why the hell are you so far away?”

“Sir?”

“First of all, from what I see, and I have been watching you from right nearby, I am secure in knowing that, although you may see the light from yon window, you are one hell of a ways away to see anything else, so why put yourself in harms way over a girl you can’t even see?

“Sir?”

“If you got closer, you might catch a glimpse, but if you did that, and got caught, hot prods would be scorching throught your eye orbs as we speak, and you’d be that much closer to the shed and ready for slaughter.”

“I’m  not! I’m looking for my dog….’RUSTY!’…she took off! and she’s in heat!…My mom’s upset…so I’m out looking”

“Out here…”

“I had to pee.”

“There had better not be a pecker hangin out of those jeans, because if you’re touchin’ yourself within a mile of daughter your fate is sealed.”

“I’m not! Hands up…zipper up! Look! Nothing out! I swear!”

“You do this often?…come out here? This a regular thing with you?”

“No sir…the dog…”

“How’d you get out here?”

“My bike. Over by the road…”

“And you walked clear out here…”

“ the dog…”

The man gave a shrill whistle through his fingertips, the sound pierced the night and faded off over the flat distance. They waited for a bark, the boy knew was never coming. The man repeated the whistle, with a vibrato that spoke to canines, but not this time.

They stood silent now.

“Sir I really got to pee…”


“Pee. Go ahead. But have some respect and turn your back to my home.”

“Yes sir.” As the boy relieved himself in the moonlight, the sound of his stream hard and steady, and steam rose from his pool on the soil. 

The voice asked, “Do you know my daughter, boy?”

“No sir.”

“What’s your name then?”


“Why? Why is that needed when I don’t know her, and she don’t know me?”

“First of all it’s important to me, as her old man, and as for the rest of it, we’ll just wait and see…ideally, Legally, but not necessarily…”

“I got to go…my Mom. I never done this sir….”

“I can see that son, but here’s my concern – you’re caught, you’re scared,  I cut you lose, you’re wounded, but you wait, and think about it, and keep thinking about it, and find you just can’t stay away. On that night, I might not be out taking my walk on a sticky night like this one, so you get a little closer to that light over there...drawn to that light because what’s in there is magic…the genie glowing inside the bottle and you just gotta see for yourself. So each time you return you get a little closer, just hoping for that magic glimpse. Closer...closer...And then what? Entry? 

What?!

You may have the struggling urges and a budding fertility going to war within your body, but tonight you’re a kid on a bike, and she’s a girl in her jammies, so that’s where you are. You know her, and she knows you. The time may come, son, you never know…when we just might meet. I can’t see your face, but I know who you­­ are. Will you know me?”

“I will, sir,” The boy said shuffling backwards.

“Go get on your bike and go home. Kiss your Mother on the cheek and take a cold shower.”

"Yes sir. Sorry to disturb you."

"Try not to ‘disturb yourself’ so much"

"Yes sir!" he repeated, as he retreated into the night.

"And, boy?! Next time you come, there will be dogs."