Rumours were flying all around
Someone was moving in
They question at the table was
Just how long has it truly been?

Windows boarded, papered over
Not a good sign most times
But, there in the shop window
Coming soon "Broken Spines"

The street folks all were questioned
By other street folks who
knew nothing of the tenant
On the whole, nobody knew

The Bluesman worked the alleys
finding out just what he could
But, in the end, he came up empty
And here, empty was not good

The building had been vacant now
For at least ten years plus four
It was at least the old millenium
Since someone used that door

The building was a shoe store
Selling discount boots and shoes
A new tenant or an owner
Gave the street some cherished news

The bartender told the others
She tried to see in on her way
But, the window was well covered
That was all she had to say

No one knew the agent who
Brokered the deal at all
They were surprised someone was coming
Most new stores went to the mall

Cy, the Pawnbroker ventured
It must be a medics shop
No one understood the name
And the questions wouldn't stop

A young woman in the corner
ordered her breakfast and sat back
she listened closely to the council
and followed them on their mind track

She had coffee from Gianni
He served it up himself
Joe had cooked her breakfast
"Two eggs, bacon, and a shelf"

The Bluesman coughed and ventured
We'll know all we need to know in time
I'm off to have some med-cin
and rest my weary spine

The others laughed at his words
Saw him off and watched him go
He went back out to his alley
Away from where the wind did blow

The Captain followed closely
He was heading to the bar
The others closed the meeting
before he ever got too far

The woman in the corner
Paid her bill, and left a tip
She left ten dollars on the table
With a yellow paper slip

She also left beside it
A small card of olive green
She was gone and on her way
Before the little card was seen

Gianni, read it , looked around
There was now nobody there
So he read it to himself and smiled
No use, just reading to the air

It said "Catherine A. "
Seller of used books
Owner of Broken Spines
Books in need of second looks

Gianni didn't know the name
But the store just fit the street
Everyone here was damaged, flawed
Second hand....to be discreet

There has to be a story
To go with our young Catherine A
I guess we'll find out more
On the street....another day

"You aren't supposed to step on the cracks, I'll tell on you," I stick my tongue out at his comment and he laughs. I saunter closer to him on the street as we close in on our destination and he wraps his arm around me. We are just about to the pet store when Peter pulls on my hand and stops on the sidewalk. I turn around confused, "What's wrong? Having doubts?"
"No, I just want to make sure you aren't."
"I'm fine, I want to do this. I'm ready, I promise."
"Do you think we're going to fast?"
I laugh and he smiles sheepishly, "I don't want you to get scared again, I don't want to rush you."
"Trust me, Peter, I'm ready for this. Let's get engaged."

We walk hand in hand into the pet store and pick out our little puppy, our ring, and our promise to each other. He's more playful than the others and his right ear won't stay upright. I like his dopy looking half smile and Peter likes his boundless energy.

After we leave the store with our new family member, Peter bends down to look eye to eye with Marshal. I watch him whisper something in his ear and it almost looks as if Marshall nods. I giggle as Peter straightens up and ask him what he had said. Peter turns to me and smiles the same kind of dopy grin Marshall had and says, "Oh I just warned him not to step on any cracks, as I am very fond of this back."

He places his hand on the small of my back and we walk down the street like everything that was meant to be, was being, and we were at the center of it all.

-bcg (we always talked about getting a dog as an engagement ring)

People always ask me about you
Especially at the liquor store.

And I don't know how to tell them
We don't drink together any more.


F.Z.**N

"In a row???" I ask, incredulous.

"Nah, man."

"Were you at least #37?"

"Well, yeah. But still that gets to me," he says. He starts counting change, playing with pennies on the glass counter.

"If you didn't see it, it didn't happen," I reply. I pull out a $5.00 bill.

"That's childish!" He looks at me like I'm a babbling idiot.

"That's my life!" It was my life.

"I can't believe you sometimes," he says. Nobody can, bud.

"You better start. I'm smarter than I look." I'm bluffing now; I'm a ******* idiot.

"Yeah, yeah. Do you wanna buy anything or not?" he goes back to his pennies on the glass counter.

"Yeah--Marlboro Reds," I reply hesitantly. For a moment I thought about Camels.

"$5.00 even." It's always $5.00 even when you're with friends.

"Alright."

"Shorts or 100s?"

"****, man, shorts!" It's my turn to look at him like he's a total stranger.

"Just asking." He puts the bill in the register.

"Shorts say badass. 100s say suicide mission."

"I suppose you're right."

"It makes perfect sense!"

"Either way you're going to die."

"Yeah? So are you, buddy."

"*******."

I exit the convenience store, pack my Marlboro Reds, turn two up (one for luck, one for ****, to be smoked lastly out of the pack) and light one.

I smelled a sweet smell a couple days ago. It made me think of you.
I watched a movie yesterday. It made me think of you.
I heard a song last night. It made me think of you.
I saw a man do this thing this morning. It made me think of you.
I saw this sign this afternoon. It made me think of you.
I passed by a store an hour ago. It made me think of you.
I took a breath a moment ago. It made me think of you.
Everything makes me think of you.
I think of you.

This is the place where people come to forget that they will die one day.

They let their conscience build up on the linoleum floor in puddles,
deep and dark
And follow the crowd to the next store
And the next
And the next.

This place will bleed you.
It will tear your pockets out of your clothing
And your children’s hands from yours.

A new shirt.
A new TV.
Well done.
You’ve done well.

But when you leave the white walls
The music tinny and dim
Escalators and litter
You still won’t feel free.