Just as we were passing
Six Flags Over Jesus
off of I-40
in North Little Rock,
N’s phone rang.
A few clipped words were exchanged,
then “I see you”
and then we were pulling to
the side of the road
with our flashers on.
We were nearly on an overpass
that curved up and to the left
on the road’s way
to the river
and L’s white truck
was in front of us,
flashers on,
with a blown out
left front tire.
We made our greetings
and spoke of what to do.
L had no spare tire, but we
were going to see if N’s
spare would fit, even just unevenly
enough to get off
of the road
and to the show.
We decided to back up
a little
so as to be slightly more removed
from those bullet beams of light
whirring constantly by.
L’s keys were in his ignition
but his doors had been locked,
because not enough had yet gone wrong.
The back glass could be opened
if struck in just the right way,
so after a few attempts there was a success
and we opened that small window.
We were trying to open the doors
with a piece of metal from a jack
and our shoulders would uncomfortably strain
against the glass
and so
one and then another
of us would try,
sweat pouring in the heat of a night
in June.
We were laughing,
because it makes such times better,
concerning becoming stuck and
among other things said
I said
“The guy who gets stuck in glass
holding a piece of metal
is a fucking idiot”
and a few minutes later J
hit the side window’s switch
and we were able to
make
a safe retreat
with that haunted
thump-thump-screech
of the rubber and metal
on a blowout
having
their conversation.
There were more problems
that seem unimportant now.
Metal was bent in
unfortunate ways.
Working the jack
seemed arduous
but
I didn’t help,
I just kept moving the sweat
from my shaved head
back to the collar of my black shirt
with both my hands.
The spare didn’t fit and so L’s father
was coming with assistance
and L told us to go ahead.
The first band had finished
and a leonine man was
playing an acoustic
and right when we walked up to the door
he started singing,
“You’re gonna die. We’re all gonna die”
and I knew that we’d gotten there on time
more or less.
I had not bought a ticket,
because one cannot be a starved artist
and have enough money for concerts,
but N had purchased an extra for me days before.
I was in nineteen kinds of an infernal mood
and they were out of 24 oz PBRs
but N bought me a Something
kind of beer
that tasted like just what I’d wanted.
The musician finished his set
with one thing and another
so I took
my phone and wallet
from my jeans
and my bluebird pin from my shirt
and found them safe haven in the purse of a friend
then got ready for a riot.
I had not seen the headliner in
seven years
and though I’d heard their new softer albums
I was not quite prepared for their new method
of performance.
You must understand, once upon a time
this band was dark and powerful
and they would wear ski parkas on stage in 90 degree weather
and the singer would be punching the guitarist in the back during solos
and I got a cracked rib on that one goddamn pole at Juanita’s once
and they used to throw chairs into walls and amplifiers
and after he said “And you’d better be alone” there were explosions in the crowd
and one time they had a huge sack of wildflowers that they were tossing out
amid the above-mentioned insanity.
They got ready and the singer came to the microphone and shrieked out
“I wrote a four word letter!”
just like he used to
and I expected the place to rupture
and I was just waiting for the direction of the push
but it never came.
People rocked back and forth
and sometimes jumped
but
this was a hardcore band
once.
They sounded really good but it was so disconcerting to me
that I got out of the pit and just stood
near the smoker’s exit
by an industrial strength fan
and got my friends to buy me drinks
and looked at the women that had come,
and man,
maybe the band’s intensity went down
but at sometime they’d started
attracting a better looking crowd.
I got my wallet and phone
and bluebird pin back
and walked outside.
I was smoking a couple of cigarettes
and thinking about bridges and how
I wished I had more beer.
I finished the cigarettes (I took those
from a friend too,
a common thread in the life)
and walked back by the fan
and minutes later,
there she was.
And I didn’t feel
so sad anymore.
Nothing legal cheers me up
like gorgeous women,
although they can be very expensive
when compared to any common drug.
They are an uncommon drug
so it should not be surprising.
She looked like she was straight out of Greek myth.
All she was missing was a laurel crown.
Or perhaps a bow and arrows.
Be wary of who you choose to chase in the forest.
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