Saltwater Tibs Versus American Justice

Love,

a distant vessel,
which carries us across the sea of life.

I peer out my window to the street below. I see the biggest cliche of my life, a beautiful woman. But something is different, I can tell even at this distance that there's something very special about her. She carries herself in this strange empathic way. Or am I just making a psychic/physological connection? Her clothes are a vibrant tapesty of colour. I see her watching a mother hen and her young falling out of a tree, the chicks are too young to fly and when they plop onto the cement a yelp jumps from her throat.

The breeze from my open bedroom window sends shivers down my spine. My t-shirt reverberates and I clutch onto the guitar in my lap. I look out my window again and see her walking onto the road, ensuring the mother can fetch her infants without fear of the automobiles. She helps them onto the curb. She looks stunning in the afternoon sun. She walks across the road and takes a seat on a park bench. I turn up my amp a little, hoping the pleasant chords will float above the din of the day's traffic.

I slam away on my "Old Black" guitar. I play my heart out, letting my soul sweat from my skin and sink into the stratosphere. I sing, projecting out the window, with a hint of melancholy, just the right amount inorder to perfume the air like freshly baked muffins. She shifts in her seat. I notice her head move as she picks up on the occasional note thrown from my bedroom window and into the harbour, sailing through the sky like fishing line, then falling sharply as if an anchor were attached to the end.

"Who is this girl?" I wonder as my wrist cramps and I put the guitar down. She's resting peacefully now, staring at the sailboat in the harbour, eating a bag of popcorn. She looks Zen. I look down the road and see Hammerstein coming up the sidewalk. Egads! This is my excuse to go outside and get seen by this girl. I throw on my jacket and chapeau and rush out the door, skidding out my apartment building door and into the street.

"Tibs!" Hammerstien shouts from down the road. I see the girl turn towards him, catch his line of sight and follow it back to me, she quickly snaps her sight away once she realizes that my peripheral vision has her in its sight.

I walk towards him, "what's up dude?" I ask.

"Not too much man, just out for a walk, you wanna go to the casino?"

"Sure dude. Breakfast special?"

"Fuck yes! Hotblood!"

He turns and we head south to the Cafe American in the foriegn casino. I peer over Hammerstien's shoulder and catch a quick last glimpse of the girl, still sitting statuesque on the park bench. Serene. The image is permanently sketched into my memory. A love of another universe, gone down the road of alternate reality, one where Hammerstien doesn't come up the street and I have the courage to approach her.
C'est la vie, regrets.

"Tibs. I've got problems. I'm trying to be level headed about it, ya know?"

"Yeah, I'm kinda level headed too."

We grab our usual poisons. Hot coffee, tea, and the Country Style Breakfast. We batted back and forth about our girl problems, the loves lost and the troubles gained and some other philosophical nonsense.

I was feeling gutterish. "This sinking ship has got to go." I tell Hammerstien. I head back to my apartment alone.

There's a letter in my mailbox. What could this be?

From the porch,

S. Tibs