something just short of disheveled

 

I moved around,

here and there,

sold mantras on the street

for a buck seventy-five apiece,

tried to become mainstream

but the counterculture wasn’t having it.   

They kidnapped me,

threw me in the back of a Volkswagen bus,

fed me cheap wine from a brown jug,

pumpkin seeds and sunflower seeds

in honey,

read from Das Capital,

Allen Ginsberg,

made me audition for the role of

Claude Hooper Bukowski

in a road production of “Hair”.

I wasn’t all that impressed with their

rhetoric or their sideburns,

so I escaped and landed on my knees

next to some fat alley cats

who were waiting for their

Welfare checks.

I ducked into a bookstore

owned by a man in a red baseball cap

and a Santa Claus beard.

He nearly blinded me with

his high-beam eyes and offered

me a cup of green tea.

“You look like you could use a friend

and some meaningful conversation,” he said.

I nodded even though I was too sleepy

for friendship or meaningful conversation.

I asked him if he had a back room where

I could take a nap for about

an hour or so.

“You ain’t a narc, are ya?” he said.

“No, sir.”

He pointed to a door in the rear

of the store that a had a cardboard sign

thumb-nailed to it:

GOING HOME,

it said, and it looked like

it was painted with

fluorescent red spray paint.

I turned the knob to the right

but it was locked.

I turned it to the left, and it opened.

I looked back at the owner,

who was binding a copy of the

King James Bible,

smoking Indian bidis, and watching

cartoons on a 13-inch black and white TV.

I entered the room.

It looked to be about 9 by 12.

There was a cot leaning against the

far wall.

That was it.

I lay down and took a few deep breaths.

My nose began to run.

There was a powerful odor of eucalyptus

in the air.

I closed my eyes.

I heard some voices on the other side

of the wall.

Two young men,

probably teenagers,

skipping school.

- I dunno, man…

- Dude, you’re sweating…

- Yeah, my heart’s goin’ crazy, too…I’m not gonna do anymore…

- It’s not cut right…something’s off…

- Yeah, flush it down the shitter…I ain’t in the mood to o.d. tonight…

When I awoke, the sun was coming up.

And I became half a human being again,

in and of myself.

Reviews

[Glenda]

This really rocketed me back in time! You have a great knack for dialogue and making scenes come alive! I read some reviews on your books and I just love reading anyhoo. I know they'll be awesome.

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, GeeKay. I hope you enjoy them.

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, Everett, that's very kind of you. Thanks for the review

[Everett Dulin]

I am stunned, this was nothing short of inspiring. You've masterfully woven a captivating world full of emotion and imagery.

[Ken Simm.]

An uncredible, I think autobiographical story that pushes a lot of my personal buttons. The one thing that stands out from a lot of the points I would like to make about this is the flow and the rythmn of this life.
Incredible writing.

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, KLen. If it pushed your buttons, it most certainly pushed mine, too. Thanks for stopping by and reviewing my work. It's much appreciated, sir.

[Vol]

Philip,
What a fine story!... Reminds me of a song on Barry McGuire's' "Eve of Destruction" album called "Mr Man on the Street." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFltOAUa1fE
What a great poem for an open mic...!
Vol

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, Vol. Other people have told me I should do open mics. I think that would be fun! Thanks.

[Philip Gaber]

"Eve of Destruction" is such a cool tune.

[Vol]

Philip,
If you can find a good one, I believe you would love it. They are an opportunity to commune with like minded people, hone your skills, drink good coffee or beer... and make especially good friends.
My first reading was in 1968...
Vol

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks, Vol, I'll look around, see if Charlotte has any...

[Vol]

NC? Of course they do... You can find them in the local "underground" newspaper in the classifieds... usually under "Events." I just looked on Google... i am jealous!
Vol

[Philip Gaber]

Thanks!...