"Castaway..." "The Cafe` - Life As We Live It"

A piece of an interrupted chapbook

"The Cafe` - Life As We Live It"

“Castaway…”

”…Martin!” my voice got louder.  “Martin, it ain’t right.”  …and louder - just after the ‘angels’ gave their customary pause to all conversations - but mine.

People at the nearby counter took notice and started edging away.  The ones at the diner’s tables, a little farther away, gave me that ‘you-aren’t-there-so-I’m-ignoring-the-loud-a*****e-ruining-my-lunch’ glance and went back to eating.

“It just ain’t right!!!”   I slammed the phone flip-face down onto the top of my table.  It crunched - felt like it broke my hand too… f**k-it - was THEIR cell anyways, not mine anymore… ‘nothing of theirs is mine anymore’ crossed my mind right then and my body - my whole body, sort of just slumped in on itself.

They could have waited until Friday - damn, at least til Friday.  Tuesdays and I have a continuing ‘history’ - little of it ‘good’… The waitress took that moment to reappear, a coffee pot in her hand.  “At least the refills are free...” she said.  I looked up at her face - sad eyes and a small smile; yeah, she knew.  I guess everybody there knew… even me, now.

I edged the cup toward her.  She leaned a little, refilled it, and her free hand lightly touched my shoulder as she straightened, then turned and walked away.

I straightened up again… found MYSELF again - with that light touch on my shoulder.  “Thanks hon, I needed that.”  I said toward her back.

She paused in mid step, turned, and looked me straight in the eyes.  “I know, and its ok.  I’ve been there too,” she said softly.  Then she continued on to the other tables.  Coffee can be a luxury and serving it - a necessity… yeah, I guess she DID know about being here.

“Castaway…”

For some it’s a moment,
for some it’s a lifetime -
and its what we face

what we risk -
with every reach
every try
every hope and dream.

We want so hard
to control OUR existence,

our ways -
of being

of living
of loving and being loved
of having todays
of having tomorrows.

It hurts…

each slap is felt,
each ‘dig’ bites,
each laugh at our expense -
eyes that don’t see,
heads that turn away.

...and its MEAN!

not fair,

not always justified by what WE did

or do
or know
or say
or anything at all…
its just life
as we live  -
as we TRY
to live it.

Its hard being me.
Sometimes I wish so much
for so very little in the grand scheme of things -
and sometimes it’s a touch
just
one
single
touch
that’s needed and isn’t given.

Chris

Author's Note

Say what you want - feel free

Reviews

[x]

I think that the mini-story sets the tone for the poem really well, it's pretty relatable. The voice of the character is good enough that you don't care that there is so little in the way of a supportive skeleton; the emotions and responses fill most of that in and give you an idea of what's going on. The first paragraph is a bit unclear and I think it could be polished a little, but otherwise the story is concise and the wording is elegant. I found myself being distracted by all the caps and some of the punctuation.. but I don't see how you could have avoided that.

The choice of subject matter is also different and it seems more meaningful because most people don't write about just plain-old, boring human contact, but that's how we spend a majority of our time. In prosaic situations. So this is a great melding of unusual and commonplace circumstances.

[Katrina Mckeown]

Thought provoking and makes one want to reflect on what they think, feel, say do or interpret from others or situations.

[Crowley]

Great set up and what a great thought to make this a sort of mixed media piece. I have recently gone through a similar experience so it hits home. All I can do is just keep moving forward and believe that being a decent human being will prevail. Really liked this Chris...you do have a way with it!

[Chris]

Sometimes it helps to KNOW where a thought comes from - ya know?

[Crowley]

I know....thanks, and good to see ya..

[roarke]

In a word, moving. Life is moved by emotion, doesn't matter the scene. I thought after reading this that knowing exactly what it was that upset you, important. But it was what came after. It's always about what comes after. And the "MYSELF"... we so often throw "our selfs" out there, like Prometheus' open wounds... then it's what comes after. Thanks Chris.

[Chris]

Ya got it... good "seeing" you.

[Lorry]

I am now wondering if other readers are like me nodding in agreement at the voice of someone who has indeed been there. Where one decision can be the straw that breaks the camels back, where a cracker and cheese can become a feast to the hungry and a little moment of knowing sympathy can linger a lifetime.
We never know what that person has been through, so it's always safest to give the benefit of the doubt, or even stay silent, rather than be the straw that breaks the back. But it's always worth a bruised ego to show and share a little empathy if we can. If everyone did, well what a wonderful world that would be, I believe someone once said 😀
Lovely writing here Chris. It's not easy to fit so much into such a short piece, but you managed it perfectly.

[Penlady]

Many times we don't realize how precious to others are the words we speak, the kindnesses we offer or the simply being the US we are, as sufficient....

[Chris]

The "little" tings really DO matter - the ones you do BECAUSE you don't have to.

[Kent Rawski]

the human spirit in each of us realizes the importance of being, take that away and you've dehumanized a person and more yourself, wonder with all the killings what person may have made a difference off subject chris heartfelt words to make us think how we cope with lifes demands I have to add our response to life, say our attitude does set us on a path

[Chris]

Not off subject at all... come by anytime.

[emmajoy]

'.. .. I edged the cup toward her. She leaned a little, refilled it, and her free hand lightly touched my shoulder as she straightened, then turned and walked away... … I straightened up again… found MYSELF again - with that light touch on my shoulder. “Thanks hon, I needed that.” I said toward her back.. ..'

Your writing, this writing - is more than sadly beautiful... it's a spirit-storm. Chris.

You've always laid words in a near whisper yet waving a thought as if needing to be heard, touched and more. Dear Lord, it doesn't hurt to proffer and hand or pat a shoulder.. to make clear that a person isn't alone whatever the sadness, problem or whatever For so many life is only a existence. By way of your character 's world, you've written a controlled but emotional masterpiece. Love is, life is, want is... worth more when shared.

[Beccy]

“Thanks hon, I needed that.” I said toward her back.' Sometimes that is all we need to light the day.

7.5 billion and counting; should be no such thing as lonely really.

Beccy.

[Chris]

One might just thiink so,but, doesn't work out that way for some reason or another... sigh.

[LitStar]

The character in this write perfectly captures the archetype of someone who (in real life) would be classified by the psychiatric society as ''neurotic''.


However in truth, the scenario you created here is one that many of us ( artistic souls in particular) face often.


This was a keen slice of reality on page.

[Chris]

Seems medicine is an art and not a science... one's neurosis is another's slice of life. Thought-full words - thank you.

[LitStar]

yw

and well said

[Chris]

Life as we live it.