(Interior--woman reading.--Edward Hopper)
*
SLATTERN'S LAMENT
She was riding
that downward spiral. Fast. Hard. Hellbound.
Spun out of
control by an endless soul sucking spiritual vertigo. Even on rare days when
she could free herself from its paralyzing vacuum she found no respite.
Running wasn’t the
answer. Flight offered no refuge. None. The jerkwater towns, juke-joints,
roadhouses, gin-mills, dive hot-sheet hotels were endlessly the same, all
melding into identical featured siblings mothered by guilt, fathered by
despair.
She’d run her
race. Fought her feeble fight. The finale was a hulking shadow looming at the
end of life’s darkest alley.
She might have
taken that giant step into the void a long time ago, but . . .
But, there was one
thing. One thing alone. The place where she could always find solace. Shelter
from the storm. Peace. Even a modicum of joy.
One thing . . .
her battered and tattered, well thumbed and worn, copy of KISS ME, EVIL. Only within those yellowed and
crumbling pages was there solace to be found. It only took a few pages immersed
amongst its desperate denizens; Nicky Kid, Trina, Trash, Roxi, Moondog, to snap
her out of her malaise, cause her to reassess her situation, realize that
compared to that pack of miscreants she was sitting pretty, living large,
cruising down life’s golden highway in a magenta drop-top Caddy with 22 caret
gold trim. Life was good after all.
*
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