Thursday, June 23, 2011

Under A Red Lamp Day!

You’re sitting under a red lamp, chewing on a ten-day old cigar, telling your son what love really means, when the men come in to the restaurant to make you pay.

“Love really means being disappointed. Disappointed in your own heart for not being able to give enough of itself. Disappointed that your lover can’t make everything okay, that she can’t make you forget all about where you expected to be at this point in your life. Disappointed that love isn’t all you need. Disappointed that love’s all you have.”

“You killed Mom, didn’t you?”

“She was talking to the Feds.”

Two of Mack Leland’s soldiers just opened their rain coats and leveled shotgun barrels at your head. One of them moves his eyes from yours to your son. He’s giving you the split-second you need to slap your son to the ground before the triggers are pulled. You take advantage of his consideration, throw your son safely to the ground, and then you accept their gunfire readily and without rebuttal.

You die reasonably content. You at least got around to telling your son what love really is. You never got to tall him about the time you saw a ghost when you were in the war, but no one ever died without a few items left on their to-do list.

Happy Under A Red Lamp Day!