Nothing but pure fucken chaos outside. Fast lights zig zag at lighting speed on the other side of this night time window that has a reflection of my long half shifted face staring off into a cold and dangerous world. Beyond this cold dark window lays a galaxy of people who will rob and gut you, steel and fuck you. A star ship galaxy full of space aliens that breathe in smoke only to exhale daggered words that leave you bloodied and wounded. A sudden blink of the eye reminds my frightened conscience that in fact I am not dreaming, but alive and well, safe and sheltered, out from harm's reach from the, at times, fucked up world we live in. A single drip of drool drops from my half opened mouth as my eyes follow the drip to its destiny, splattering on the bright and always magical blue carpet silently laying below my feet. A wipe of the mouth, as a sense of warmth and comfort blanket my angered and frustrated emotions that tease and tempt me like a clown at a fucken kid's party. Get off me clown, "Who are you talking to, sweetie?" My wife asks in her sweet, like country tea voice. "The world, sweetie....the mother fucken world". Her head fell back as her eyes rolled with a slight chuckle and a grab of my hand. "Come on, sweetie. Let's look for some good movies," she said while dragging me away from the window that looked back at me.
A soothing walk through the secret garden drew my soul to peace. Rows of hidden isles of super heroes fighting and drunken guitar playing college kids at the animal house shaded my thoughts from the outside world, leaving me surrounded by a new circle of life, one that leaves you on the edge of the world. Chimney sweepers dance above my head down the yellow brick road under the blue sky that folds and opens like a spiral maze leading me to some sort of crystal ball called the perfect movie to check out on this not so perfect night. The smell of popcorn and candy left my taste buds with blue balls, as my mouth became dry and anxious for sour patch kids and extra buttered kettle corn. My nose dug into my arm pits, as I tried to smell myself after the guy with the red leather jacket and Elvis sunglasses looking at movies next to me, gave me his business card that was titled, Soap Salesman. He seemed odd and out of place, and he was truly incorrect about my odor, I smelled damn good. Fuck that guy.
The clack sound that the movies made being put back on the shelf after a quick read and a judge of the cover made my ears tingle with relaxation. I loved that sound, I loved every sound this under the freeway homeless man was playing, a true master piece in an unusual place. This blue carpet masterpiece was far from quiet as some might think. The sound of the cash register changing while receipts were being ripped into two different forms to sign gave me goose bumps as I continued to walk up and down the isles passing a red haired girl running faster and faster around the building. The crazy thing about this red haired girl is that she never stopped running. All she did was run, run, run. It made me smile as I continued to look for clues with an extremely dry sense of humor and whity remarks to myself, as I fumbled around getting closer to the perfect movie on this perfect stormy night. Too much silence is never a good thing. Too much time alone can lead to long talks with bartenders and repeated sentences that might leave a person mad. That's why I love this blue carpet, it surrounds me with other people's thoughts, journeys, and emotions. Freeing us from our jailed cell minds, and taking us to the very end where the water meets the sand full of redemption. Freedom from our own minds, and into others. Freedom that never lets go, even when the movie sinks to an end, and the cold outside wind from your open bedroom window hits you like frost bite.
The safe place, is what this block separated from the busters of life really is. A place that no matter how down you are, how mad you are at life, this casino of rolling pictures will always save you from the sphere of life. Save your private emotions for the gym, this is a time to just run, and keep running until the shackles on your knees break, and the forest before you turns blue and yellow. Yellow like a Taxi, and blue like the punch that got you drunk off love from the first time you saw the woman of your dreams at that coffee shop outside of that busy intersection. I am just an average Joe, but in this world I am a brilliant mathematician that solves impossible problems at Harvard. I am not a weightlifter, I am a rope slinger that collects rocks and rides elephants. I am a fucken green monster. I am a wormy poker hustler. I am not me, myself, nor Irene. I am a gladiator with a sword fighting for freedom to see his family once again. I have no kids yet, but in this yellow and blue fish net I am a family man, a man on fire that cannot be stopped.
My wife's hair was blowing swiftly in the air from the AC vent above her. She looked the most beautiful I have ever seen her at that very moment. Her original smell hit my face from the air guiding it my way, almost taking my face off. A scent of a woman was an understatement, her scent was and still is nothing less than breath taking. A lucky man I am, I thought to myself. To have a woman with such a brave heart, and beautiful mind. I am truly blessed, and forever fortunate to have such a remarkable creature as my wife.
This life that I live, I would die hard for. Walking up and down each row of movies about other people's lives makes me appreciate mine even more. I slowly crept up to a movie that stuck out from all the rest. A movie that caught my eye from far away. I grabbed the movie extremely dramatically as if I just caught my first big fish. I grabbed the Truman Show and my wife's hand and proceeded to the counter. I paid, then continued to walk forward, gathered the rest of the benjamens into my wallet, and buttoned up my wife's coat before entering the cold outside.
My wife the Rock, and myself the Fighter, both a Bronx Tail, that ended in a night of love.
"My wife, my love, my queen". 2016