He sat gripping his beer bottle in one hand
and a pen in the other, tapping it repetitively
on the open notebook before him.
That's when a little red-haired squeeze
came in and sat beside him, grazing his leg
with hers as she ordered her mixer.
She saw the great potential for love in his eyes
and started questioning his mind accordingly.
Seeking his essence, searching his being.
Yet he never shifted his gaze from the lined paper,
and answered all of her inquisitions without hesitation
because he knew what she wanted.
But she shifted closer to him and started to speak under
her breath, asking him if he has a woman waiting for him
at home. Asking more than her words implied.
His knuckles whitened and tightened around the green glass,
and the pen started tapping faster and faster on the unwritten
words upon the empty sheets.
She put her hand on his forearm and the tapping ceased
as blood red mist started fogging his already blurred vision,
seeing crimson, he ripped his eyes from the blank pages.
The bottle shattered and broken glass sank into his palm,
the pen erupted painting his calloused fingers black.
He turned and faced this intruder.
"Please leave me alone now," he spits into her frightened face,
and the crimson fog covers his sight completely, as his thirst is
sparked, ignited, and begins burning furiously.
He slams his eyelids shut and searches for Arlo's words,
searches for Arlo's eyes in his mind.
Searches and searches for her heart.
He massages his temples and counts his breaths.
He fights for his sanity in the face of doubt and intolerance.
He just wants his dear to be here..
He sighs and opens his eyes.
And he's alone again.
You drive me sane, my dear Arlo.
.
