People – MoonCat

Danny sat beneath the Washington side of the Interstate Bridge    
14-years-old, drinking a six pack of Lucky Lager 
Stolen from a warehouse near the railroad tracks. 
Warm beer. 
Lucky L had jokes underneath the bottle caps  
Silly verse on jagged tin, which he 
Stuffed into pockets of his Fort Vancouver jeans 
Worn out to near dust before the school year started 
Purchased in the boys' department of Sears 
On Main Street, a block from Kiggins Theatre 
Named after someone he didn’t know 
Or for that matter, gave a shit about. 
  
A few feet above his head 
Cars travelled from one state to another 
Cool-like, 70 miles-per-hour plus. 
Their tires sounded electric… 
Rippling…as if they were lost static 
Flying into ether, with a polyrhythmic crunch. 
They hit sections of steel 
Truss thumping upon truss 
Large pulses of movement. 
The world felt like it was breaking into pieces. 
Any minute, he expected it all to come undone. 
Any minute, he wished for something to come undone. 
  
Next to the Interstate Bridge 
Sat the Thunderbird Inn at the Quay  
Its deck dangling over the dead river 
Supported by a maze of oiled logs 
Poles stuck upright  
Into the shallow muck of the shore. 
A victim of the Bonneville Dam 
Creating a wooden maze, a black forest underneath 
An invitation to a secret mission for a bored kid 
With nowhere to go for no reason, irresistible. 
Danny thought “Remember that kid from a few 
Years back? 
The one who drowned, crawling 
Underneath the Thunderbird?  
What was his name?” 
He didn’t remember. 
But he remembered the kid’s crewcut.

The Columbia River never moved 
Unless you swam in it, against the current 
That’s when you look towards the shore 
And notice you weren’t getting anywhere 
Like being leashed to the banks, chained 
While the river licked you with its green tongue 
Of pea soup ripples and algae blooms. 
Never drink it, but swim until  
The big ships come, hoping to ride the wakes 
Like a lost rollercoaster car. 
  
Danny only crossed the Interstate Bridge 
When the Multnomah County Fair was at the Expo 
Past Jantzen Beach 
In the land of the sloughs. 
He hitchhiked rides 
Passing under the green arcs of the bridge 
Expecting an epiphany  
Even if it had no meaning. 
He had enough money to get in, but none for rides. 
He chased girls for hours until his boredom reached 
For a wallet sticking an inch 
Out the back pocket of an undercover cop 
Who dangled a two-year-old on his shoulder. 
The cop was quick 
Had Danny’s head twisted backwards 
Like a Lucky Lager bottle cap. 
Other cops, dropped their camouflage 
Swarmed in around Danny 
As if they had found DB Cooper. 
The child never fell from the cop’s shoulder. 
Danny’s head twisted in slow motion 
Amid the midway of games 
Where dimes were tossed into dishes 
Balloons never stopped popping 
Softballs missed stuffed dolls  
Basketballs hit the rims of small hoops 
And the occasional cheer of winning.

The bridge through an old piece of glass.

They chased Lee.
That’s what they did.
He would strut up the street, yelling, mad-like... and they would chase him back home.
Back to a home tucked in a corner. The one his parents had picked for him, to make things easier.
He had wild eyebrows like erratic marker pen slashes drawn above his eyes and when he stomped up the street, he threw bright, unfinished Lego sets at them, which landed upon a hard tar-bubbled street.
The Converse Kids smashed them to bits while they ran, jumped, and squealed after him, until Lee’s red front door snapped back into place, onto his plastic blue home.
The one tucked in the corner.
They returned to the rules of whiffle ball with hollow bat & ball, involving the tops of trees, the boundaries of curbs, mailboxes, and the height of telephone wires.
The Lego pieces were picked up by morning by invisible parents, who, for some strange reason, never yelled at the Converse Kids to stop chasing, to stop running, to just...stop.
Well, they’d bought the house for him, hadn’t they? Wasn’t that enough?
Occasionally a lone Lego piece would appear during a rainstorm mixed with fallen leaves.
Neon yellow balancing on a storm drain.

Thoughts…piled. (All images that I post can be enlarged by clicking on them)

This is part of my people series. There are two others. Gerald and Shelley.

Category: People

In the Land of the Sloughs

Lee