aware of desire
❝ If ya can’t get past the smell of mash, what’re doing in my saloon?
Hawk extends a meaty hand. First press of flesh since lockdown lifted.
❝ Not mash, my friend. Sour smell of the unwashed.
❝ Can’t be my patrons, living free or dying hard.
❝ I am not you.
I catch her reflection in the bar mirror. Definitely not one of the unwashed.
❝ Not me . . .
Pausing for appreciative effect.
❝ . . . that is an obvious pleasure.
❝ The obvious may be under one’s nose. Like your nose. Always in sight, but overlooked.
And so I go a bit cross-eyed looking.
❝ Yeah. Like, when you’re aware there is a skeleton inside you. Or is that too dark?
❝ Not at all. Are you aware of ringing in your ears? Or a part of your body itches?
I scratch an elbow. She does the same.
❝ Same itch we have.
I heard it. Regret it.
❝ For me, a habit. Ringing and itch were there before you were aware. You don’t always know what you are feeling.
Heavy. Calls for a fortune cookie.
❝ Did you know you’re behind your eyes? Not in your left big toe or itchy elbow or liver either. You-ness is behind the eyes.
Without pause, the voice without accent.
❝ Are you aware all you’ve done is because you wanted something. Your life is a work camp to desire. Ever working, never arriving.
❝ Want another or gonna sit there alone?
I blink at Hawk twisting a towel in a glass.
❝ Alone?
I see the empty seat in the mirror, and notice the nose on my face.
