By Tanqueray Cowboy
Date: 16 October 2000

Rainy Night Blues

     Windshield wipers.  There's something hypnotic and transcendental about windshield wipers.  Paul Rogers was singing that Bad Company song... Ready for Love.  Lots of good lines in that one: "...Now I'm on my feet again, better things are bound to happen... "

     "Maybe," I thought, "or maybe not."

     Through the firmament of water droplets dying on my  windshield I saw the convenience store sign.  It was garish.  It was welcoming.  There would be beer inside.

     Now I'm drinking that beer.  And writing these words and wondering whether to try to remember or try to forget what has set us off.  What a bitch to have a muse that only speaks when you're out of your mind.

     To be honest, it was his voice that brings me here, now, to this place.  I don't know who's voice it was.  I don't need to know.  All I need know, as you now do, is that I was calling HER.

     She answered and carried on a distant, perfunctory conversation.  

     (God, what a fool I can be.)

     I just wanted to let her know that I was thinking about her.  I wanted to wish her well on an upcoming challenge.
  
     Then a male voice somewhere.

     (Shit, Sunday's aren't date nights, right?)

     Somewhere in a place that was to be hers alone.  Some question... unintelligible...  Domestic.

     I thought I'd go to bed early, now it looks like I'll be up a long, long time.
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