Alone in the Dark

Alone in the Dark.

The phrase has been bouncing around in my head for weeks.  I saw it on a sign and it just stuck in my head.  It seems especially appropriate right now as I stand on my porch smoking my favorite; Romeo y Julieta.  Alone.  Dark.  A bolt of lightning suddenly lights up the night and for a second it’s almost like daylight.  So it’s not completely dark.  I take another drag and pull my leather jacket close.  It’s starting to get cold but I don’t want to go inside.  Another flash of lightning lights up the world and I can see the shape of the clouds as they roll across the sky.  The storms here are different from what I’m used to, there’s no wind, no rain, just lightning and thunder.  And even though it feels chilly to me I know the temperature is pushing 70, 75 degrees Fahrenheit.  Still, I’ve managed to fall in love with this place.  It has a certain charm, the baked brown earth, the tall cacti, the lizards, spiders, scorpions and birds.  I moved here for school, to get an art degree, the ultimate “what-are-you-going-to-do-with-that?” degree.  The saguaros captured my artist’s heart, the rest of the place took the rest of me captive.  Now I’m here, alone in the dark.  No friends or lovers to speak of, at least not human ones, for the desert has become my lover, the flora and fauna, my friends.  Another serpentine stream of lightning separates the sky for a moment and the thunder growls along after it.  In that instant I can see some of the native inhabitants scurrying for cover in fear of the rain that will never come.  In many ways they are as alone as I am and as much in the dark.  One of my old friends used to joke that she always expected that some day I’d mysteriously disappear and become a wolf or a saguaro or something like that.  I’ve always thought it would be more likely for one of those things to become human because they seem so much more alive than some people I know.  And when I’m out in the middle of the desert I can feel a pulse thrumming through everything, a heartbeat of existence.   There is so much life out here.  I’m amazed by how much is out here and thriving in the seemingly dead desert.  I take another drag.  The lightning brings another flash of daylight and an empty threat of rain.

Alone.  But satisfied.  In the not-quite Dark.

Train

“Everybody loves the sound of a train in the distance.  Everybody thinks it’s true.” (after Paul Simon).

Everybody thinks it’s true, that you can run away and forget your life.  Everybody wishes it were true anyway.  Whenever something bad happens they wish they could jump on a plane or a train or a boat or get in a car and escape.  But much like Milton’s Satan you bring hell with you that’s why you can’t escape.  You can never escape.  But maybe, just maybe, you can pretend for a little while like me.  My life isn’t all nightmares but it could be better, a lot better.  I could not have drunk for a dad or an institutionalized mother but that’s the hand I was dealt.  I could do better in school but since none of the teachers seem to care I don’t see why I should.  I could probably make friends but everybody is so eager to judge me on my appearance; I mean really what is so bad about wearing a black trenchcoat and black eye-liner everyday?  Whatever.  At least out here I can pretend that I can actually get away from it all.  The train comes by every night at the same time.  And I’m always ready for it.  I crouch in the bushes listening to the bells sound warning and the lights start flashing.  The cars stop (all three of them) and I see the drivers put their heads on their steering wheels or lean on their hands on the side of the door and get a bored and irritated look on their faces.  I am always amazed by how impatient people can be.  Even more so because I can see their faces when the train actually goes by; they wish they were on it.  The train whistle sounds and my heart speeds up.  I watched a movie once where one of the characters said that the whistle on the train was one of the greatest sounds in the world…I think it was It’s a Wonderful Life…I wholeheartedly agreed.  I feel the ground start to tremble and I know it’s almost time.  I hear the clacking of the wheels and I tense and half-rise out of my crouching position.  This has to be timed perfectly.  The drivers look over expectantly and I take off.  I stop right next to the tracks as the train reaches my spot.  I throw my hands out to my side and my head up exultantly.  The train rushes by and the wind rushes around me blowing my hair and my coat around madly.  I am standing so close to the train that I could twitch one of my fingers and touch it.  The ground trembles under me as the train continues to thunder by me.  I close my eyes and lose myself in the moment.  I am nothing.  I am a wild thing, like some forest sprite caught in the city, I have become a city sprite.  And the train is my home.  The wind it creates, the mini-earthquake and the sounds.  The whistle blows again and I gasp in pleasure.  And then it’s gone.  And I stand for a moment without moving.  I slowly let my hands fall to my side and walk away.  Tomorrow another one will come and the city sprite will be there, courting danger and beauty.  Another one will come and I’ll be there pretending that I’ve escaped and am off to the wilderness where I can be free always.