Cinderella

 

 

Cinderella

I sit in the danceclub in Mexico.
Lights too bright, corners too dark,
The stench of mold and sweat from the bodies and old carpet.
10 dollar cover includes all the drinks.
What a bargain.

26 years old on the run.
Failed marriage, child support,
Warrant for violating a restraining order.
I need to go home soon, or die.
Fate is a w***e having her way with me.

A suicide attempt for a p***y.
500 dollars and five weeks in Mexico dragging on me
the overwhelming weight of life
marrow pulled from my bones
What better time for her to come forward?

‘I’m a cutter.’ she said.
arms thrust forward, scars highlighted in the weird disco lights.
Gazing at her blankly, trying to remember the rules.
Her black eyes screamed for a response.
Thru the haze of Mexican Cigarettes and black rum,

I brushed my fingers over her scars.
The texture was interesting so I spoke.
‘Yes, I see that you are.’
The bartender with sharp eyes spotted my dollar tip,
He placed two rum and cokes in front of me.

She reached for one, I stopped her with a glare.
I placed another dollar tip and the bartender brought two more.
I put one with my others and grudgingly allowed her one.
I studied my smoldering cigarette and drained my drink.
I realized I had no idea what she looked like.

No surprise when I did look.
Slim, somewhere between 16 and 30.
Living the life, so nothing great to look at.
Long skirt, vest, stringy hair, bad skin.
Just another baby burned down by the American dream.

She wanted to tell her story.
I didn’t want to hear it.
‘I gotta Jam Cinderella.’
I got up to leave.
I gathered my smokes and slammed my drinks.

10 minutes or 10 years later outside at the taco stand.
3 tacos and a Joya Cola for one dollar.
Some say it’s dog or cat, it keeps the vomiting urge at bay.
On my right, there she is.
‘We meet again Cinderella.’

‘Where do you stay?’ She asks looking at the dirty concrete.
‘It aint the Ritz.’ I reply with a shrug.
‘I need a bath.’ She said.
‘So do I. I have a sink with cold water.’
The place costs me 50.00 per month.

Time is hard to measure in a border town.
Taking turns at the sink with a musty dishrag and Dawn.
I went first. I remember her climbing into the bed.
I had been cockblocked by rum.
Incapable of caring I slept.

15 years or fifteen minutes later the heat drove me from my bed.
Looked for evidence that Cinderella hadn’t been a dream.
My lime knife was dirty and new rust colors marked the sink.
My time in Mexico was over. I couldn’t hate her.
She had said she was a cutter.





J. Swaney
January 25th 2005

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Reviews

[KGV]

Damn dude.
You're good.

[Chad Halle]

f****n brilliant man. every single line pleases the eye

[K.b.tucker]

like i said before. HELL!

[syriascat]

A very powerful and vivid peice.
Look forward to reading more of your work .
thanks for sharing
regards syriascat

[Jacqueline]

Amazing! You took storytelling to the next level! You have the gift of being able to pull people in from the start and I was hooked. Man, I felt like I was your running buddy slamming cheap Rum while keeping one eye on the door of the scuzzy place you were in! This was an awesome read.