Yes Magic it Is

Jaws set like they really could chew nails like noodles created the profile of a head bursting with hatred; though that word would undergo immediate censorship.

"Of course I don't hate anyone, not at all, it's just that some of these people, like this steel-eyed jerk with brains full of cemented certainty about all things pertaining to life, well, I would rather not be the hearer of his words; much rather be pestering one of those downtown club owners for one more chance. How many open mics will I have to do, waiting all night for the last slot, to try my new stuff, and hope they don't ask for... god I wish I'd never made that one."

Finger-snap and the crack of vocal authority. His face filled the immediate space. Scent of tuna sandwich was as grotesque as the curled lips.

"You can't even pay attention to what I'm telling you? Mister, you are on your last chance. Did you get that? One more fuck-up... funny how you can remember chords but you can't remember to turn off the lights. Can't remember filing procedures. Seem to keep forgetting to use proper titles when addressing your superiors. But you can remember chords. You know I did not agree with the management about you. But you know, Jim, he's mister nice guy and wants to give everyone a chance. Now he's starting to see what I saw about you."

Out of the building. Free. At least for fortysome hours. Free to stare at the map on the wall. A couple thousand bucks. A few extra thousand bucks, that's all. Fly away from this world. Go to one of those tucked away corners; dense populations. Saw pictures of the people. Pictures of the females.

"It would have to be about the numbers. Millions concentrated in those cities. All those bars. Audience and females. Sigh. If I could only get there. If I can get there I will never come back here."

Another night of noodles. Get used to it. Be glad for a couple bacon slices from breakfast. Get used to it. Detach from food. Water. If you can find water. History says humans can endure unfathomable horrid conditions. If they can do it, I can learn to survive on little. As long as I can work on this.

Paper on the table. Pen marks the teachers of penmanship called chicken scratch. Space in the middle; crossed words; squiggles, scratches; of course not all lines must rhyme; it's just that they usually do. Wallet to the side. Couple bills poking out. Enough for a couple cold ones. Couple cold beers.

Except it was raining. Weather hadn't yet come that a body could venture outside in t-shirt and shorts. Didn't feel like dressing. Comfortable here. Hmm, might have to give another look at comfort. Comfort is for the fancy. This world does not relate to the fancy. This world is built for gritty grunting. Endurance. Built for endurance. Not the fancy.

That's what they always get wrong. It's these damn dimples and quiet demeanor. Get tagged as a softie. Weak and oversensitive. Afraid of hard work. Avoidance of strenuous activity. Not much other option than to suit up, head into the night, down to the local convenience store, grab a couple Millers. Good enough. Noodles and a couple Millers. And fill the space on the paper. Not all lines have to rhyme.

Water. If you can be near water... what was it about coastal towns? Ultimate destination would probably be a coastal town. But not too remote. Concentration of people, like those the eyes meditated on, those on the other side of the world. Might as well be the other side of the universe. The thought of another day in the same building as... yet he tries to talk me into going to his church? He really believes himself a role model of what a real responsible masculine man is to be like, act like?

Wait a minute. Grabbed the pen, jabbing it at the paper. Wrote and wrote. Slapped the pen down, snatching up the paper, settled elbows on the edge of the table. Excitement swelled as the lines came more alive with each recitation.

Slapped the paper back to the table. Yeah this called for a couple Millers. Get this one ready for the next open mic. Looked like the rain eased off. Why the surprise; this is all magic, in case anyone did not know. Hmm, yes, someone else said the same thing. Credit to the one whose identity momentary eludes.

Once outside, noticed the rain really did subside. Had not the streets expressed shine from dampness evidence, there would be no certainty descending waters had not filled the air less than an hour earlier. Lanterns ahead. Lanterns? Lit lanterns? Didn't remember lanterns on these streets. Coming closer, markings on those lanterns. Huh? Did someone lately open an eatery based on Asian cuisine?

"Wait a minute. Do I recall walking out the door? Or did I... did I walk into the map?"