Tonight’s the night.

It’s the party at Willie’s and we’re all fixing to go. Malcom and Helen are meeting me over at Cheryl’s and then she’ll drive us there. She’s the best one to drive to anything since she’s great at doing nothing. Nothing meaning she’s real clean, cleaner than clean. She might even give Mr. Clean a run for his money. She pretends to be laid back but inside she’s all shook up. You can see it coming out of her hair. The “Shook Up”… it starts with the hair first, you know. Next is a button up shirt. That’s an important part of keeping the shook up shut-in. Button it up real tight. She pretends to be down, down like four flat tires but when you go to hug her you can feel her insides popping around like jiffy pop. She’s got everything figured out, me, you, some other folks - everything but herself. So, Cheryl, her jiffy pop insides and her shook up will be driving us to Willie’s tonight. Keeping us all in check.

Now if Cheryl is Clean then Malcom dirty. Real dirty. I always wondered how someone as clean as Cheryl ended up with ole dirty Malcom. A scammer, a thief, a liar and a druggie. I’ve never done anything with him–but druggies know druggies. And if you need it, he’s got it. Whatever “IT” may be. Maybe if Cheryl got into one of Malcom’s trick bags her inside would stop bouncing around like a 10 year old on a pogo stick. Cheryl and Malcom are like Fric and Frac. You see one, you see the other. They go together and Ham and Burger, only if it were ham and burger; Separated at breakfast like egg whites. They are connected in a disconnected kind of way. At some point they both found comfort in the discomfort, they work well outside the house. Working well has become sort of a costume, maybe their more like performance artist than lovers only the audience no longer cares about the opening or closing act.

Again and again and yet again.

So we’ll go to Willie’s, They’ll preform the opening act together. During intermission Malcom will find comfort in Hazels bosom, ear and the nape of her neck. Later inside of Hazel. Cheryl and her shook up will perform a blind mans song and dance and we’ll act like Malcom is too inebriated to leave, to care, to preform.

Cheryl and her well kept shook up will eventually get fed up. So fed up that she will eventually exit stage left. Well, we’ll leave together. Never fed up enough to actually leave Malcom. The next day or the day after the cat will drag Malcom in and life will continue as it once did. Maybe the rage of being completely disrespected and utterly ignored it softened by the key sliding into the locked door at dusk. Or the day after. Malcom eventually landing where he took off from, brings a shattered sense of care and responsibility to Cheryl’s doorstep.

If Malcom and his key and the cat never returned she’d have to deal with that. Cheryl would actually have to deal with something other than Malcom. That something is her and her shook-up. And maybe Malcom needs a place to fall. He’s faller, or a jumper. He’s need a place to jump, and leap and free-fall into destruction. A bottom in order to recognize the top, the darkness of night in order to see the light and a seed in order to know that things really can grow in through despair and places where there is no light at all. I sometimes wonder if Cheryl is so buttoned up because she’s waiting for the Malcom that she once knew. The Malcom that she fell in love with before his free falling and fumbling. Like keeping the porch light on so you can find your way home. Never changing your phone number in case the one that got away happens to call.

I’ve seem to have run out of time to introduce Helen and myself. If you haven’t gathered already I’m an observer. An observer of life, of human behavior. The only thing about that is sometimes I forget to stop observing and start living.

I think I’ll do that today.

You know. live.

How about you?