Roof o Green

I’m drunk. Hell, I’m worse than drunk and way beyond, even the Miley Cyrus floating through the smoke sounds good, damn white bitch muzac, damn. Cyril’s laughin’ at me across the pile of empties, I know he is even as he’s layin’ face down I can see his back shake, fingers twitchin’ round the neck of his Bud, damn black fool, damn black fools the both of us. Fool maybe, friend for sure. When he’s home she’ll tear him a new one ‘cause of me, out drinkin’ an bitchin’ until he don’t know which ends for shittin’ and which ends for spittin’. Keeps me from Kath while he’s like this, trod on, down, like my daddy but he didn’t stay away from mom when he drank an’ I aint goin’ there with Kath, no man, I gets like this I go grab Cyril an we hit it till I sleep out in the back forty at his place an’ he gets poured home. She hates it but she’d hate the other worse, she don’t know but she would.

It’s time he went, time I went, I’m wavin’ at the barkeep but whys he on the roof laughin’ at me, he’s lookin’ at me but he’s poppin’ in an outta focus, why the hell can’t he stay still dammit?

“OK TC, whadya want?”

His eyes are funny, sorta bloodied an wobbly all three o them, it’s hard to know which ones lookin’ at me. I grab Cyril’s head – I think, I mean it’s hair I got in my hand an I can’t pull it out tho I’m tryin’ – an wiggle it at the barkeep “s’ nows getta hom a wit him” an let go of it, bouncin’ like a pineapple all stubby and wiry like.

Barkeeps still laughin’ as I’m layin’ in the pickup goin’ cross town, fairy lights on the street lights dancin’ in time with the exhaust an Cyril’s manic drummin’ on my guts ratta – tat – tat – ratta – tat that swayin’ left an right, now starlight only warmin’ me, coloured rainbow dots no white so beautiful soft.

Cool quiet dark, my hands soft on grass and sod no wind, no light the field back o Cyril’s I’m lyin’, peace, this peace is the only peace I knows the only one I knowed, between wors’n drunk and wors’n sober, all I get in my miserable shit life. Kath don’t know it an Cyril don’t know it an I don’t tell no one cause everything I’ve ever said I hads been taken away and aint no one takin this, no one not even that smartass genY doctor an his liver prostrate death an anyways it’s worth it, just worth it for the hours a week.

I lose myself, I’m losing me, I’m glued to the roof o green and sod and field and planet holdin’ on so’s I don’t fall into the black and the beautiful lights, the stars, the empty but not empty but I wanna dive, dive out an’ sink, sink forever like I belong ‘cause it aint here’s my home but she, an she don’t know she can’t know cause I can only say it when I’m like this and I can’t see her when I’m like this so she’s not gonna know ever.

They know, they see, they call an’ they come, their light spirals down, purple red gentle, silent unseen but to me an the sod an the field an the roof o green an my fingers dug to the knuckles to hold me on, their hands on my head an faces smooth, black as the sky and beautiful, “come home, come home now” they breathe, I cry my tears as fire I can’t, I can’t Kath, heavens hell without you an hells home with you an I can’t.

My tears are theirs, their tears diamonds from onyx, cascading jewels rising to my chest on the sod on the field on the roof o green, soaking as they whisper “it’s alright, we’ll wait, we’ll be back and wait till you’re ready” an I know they will, they will, an one day I will, I will …

… one day I will.


Thanks for reading my story. I’m really keen to get your feedback and to know if you liked what you read. Please leave a quick comment if you could.

Cheers, Ishmael.

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