8 of 12 - Love's Been Good to Me.

[KB.]

This one leads into "A legend in my own time"

Patrick walked his Harley slowly down the sidewalk, taking the time to get far enough away to not wake Wil when he started the old horse. Patrick kicked the hell out of his faithful ride, and it came to life with a low gasoline scented growl. He looked at the intersection; four hard cardinal directions stared back at him like a long lost friend. They resembled the type of friend that only called when bail money was needed. Trouble. Patrick only had three choices at the moment; the path behind him was full of potholes and broken yellow lines. He looked right and turned left, always turn left when you get lost.

Patrick rode on at a slow trot, smelled the dirty city air, and let the rain fall over him. He was soaked to the marrow of his bones, but he did not feel clean. He felt unwashed. Patrick thought back to the first day he had met Kate. He had been heading to a small corner bar where the drinks were cheap and strong. She was walking in the opposite direction. He noticed her hair first, red as Jolene’s but straight instead of curly, this was no Jolene. It was late November and there had been snow and ice loitering on the city’s sidewalks for almost a full week. As they approached each other he saw her start to fall, and he reached out just in time to catch her; and as he did he stumbled himself. Straight into those blue eyes. Those eyes were full of smiles and laughter; they sparkled like the waves of the Pacific Ocean as it crashed onto the shores of Monterey at sunrise. Kate looked at him and he could see his own open book being read.

He had taken her arm over his left shoulder and quietly turned her in the opposite direction from which she had been walking. Subtle was not an adjective anyone would freely use to describe him, but he figured she wouldn’t notice until he had her where he was already heading. He took his position closest to the road as he had always tried to do when walking with a woman. It wasn’t an over coat covering a mud puddle, but it was close enough. He walked her into his little spot, and sat her down easily. He asked the bartender for some ice, a clean towel, and some type of aspirin or ibuprofen. He took the ice and wrapped it in the towel; then took her shoe off as gently as he could. He winced at the blueness of her ankle and could already see it swelling. Patrick placed the towel and ice around her offended limb and asked if she wanted a drink. Tea, coke, vodka tonic? She smiled, told him thank you for the attention, took the aspirin from his open hand, and said that coffee would be great. That a girl he thought; don’t always settle for the given options. Make your own choice.

He told the waitress he would have two cups of coffee, black. The waitress raised an eyebrow at his sober choice of drink, and he shushed her as he waved her away with a wink. They sat there for hours, talking and consuming the coffee like Juan Valdez himself was about to walk into the bar. She told him he should quit smoking no less than a dozen times. Never in a nagging way; was it more like concern for a stranger who might turn into a friend? As the afternoon drew closer to the early dark of winter he called her a cab; paid the driver and told her he would see her again soon. She never asked where or when; she knew where he could most easily be found.

He had watched the red taxi drive away and saw as she looked back and waved at him with a smile on her face. She looked like she could make thunder stop with a single kiss. He had been roaming around for a long time, love had always been good to him, but he had never found a home. Patrick let himself dream for a moment as dusk settled softly in. He had been on his way out of this place; the cold made him want to head South again. He decided to hang around this town for a little longer. He was interested in just what might happen. His fingers were cold from the chill of the night air; but every crevice and hole inside of him felt like it had been filled with sleep inducing warmed milk. He was a little too comfortable.

If awards were given for regret, and if fame could be derived from lover’s games and hearts used as though they were bowling balls; he would have been a legend in his own time. He felt a ceremony and a plaque coming his way some where further up the road.



KB

[KB.]

here is a link to the lyrics for the whole album.

http://www.geocities.com/wabasso/cash/a ... yrics.html

[KB.]

Damn women folk. This was my favorite so far as well. It was one of the two that I actually liked. I'm not done yet though, and I still haven't told what was in the letter.

[KB.]

almostfamous;652759 wrote: and we are waiting patiently.





Take note of that.


Good luck with that.

[KB.]

almostfamous;652770 wrote: wiiiiith? being patient?