First Draft.

Copied from journal un-edited 10/11/01

The True Love; Café

After bearing my soul in a room, a circle full of people. I found true love. It’s a café on 24th and j st. next to a florist. I couldn’t get over the idea of such a warm name in a cold town. True to form it had a dark thick feel to it, with lights just low enough to make things visible. A strange light with a strange feel in a strange room. I took my motorcycle and the parking was easy, I wasn’t sure if the girl on the back of the bike liked the ride. She was wild and free as you could be at 20. She asked me if I had a helmet, and I said yes knowing what was coming next, I didn’t have any sunglasses and neither did she. 10 years younger than me, I thought, but hell my ex wife was 11 years older. I didn’t really know what she was after but then again I didn’t even know what I was after. Like a small furry rodent moving though dinosaurs on four wheels. We easily made it, if you’re in a city foot, bicycle, or motorcycle power is the only way to go. We found true love easily, her tapping my shoulder left side right side, right side. It wasn’t just the physicality of the place; the feel was thick dark and mysterious. There were paintings of metal naked women on the walls. One of them had a cross behind her. The lights the atmosphere and my mood struck me. We all want to be crucified and saved I thought. Some by the rigors of lust some by the thrust of adrenaline, and others by the cross of religion. Escape from New York was playing in the back room cheesy 80’s music making the atmosphere all the more strange. I was out of my element, in a place with a coolness of a type that I didn’t understand. But something something was going on that I just wasn’t getting. I looked at the girl I was with, multicolored hair, downtown wildness, sublime untamed sexual energy, pretty eyes, wanting to skip and play as we walked to the bike. She had a natural beauty with a downtown coolness and a lifestyle that I couldn’t understand. She fit in here this was her territory, this was her turf

The guy behind the counter was taking his own time, was working at his own pace, but instead of being impatient I found myself fascinated by him. He had mellowness and a peace about him, he looked like he cared. Not just some Joe working at a downtown coffee shop, trying to out cool everyone else, I’m really better than this kinda guy. He had gentle eyes and a forgiving spirit. I was truly fascinated by him. I got my coffee and nachos and went out to the back patio. Man I though, these cats must have gone out of their way to find the weird lights. Rows of table’s permeated by people, Downtown people. Weather they came as a crowd or ended up just sitting next to each other I really couldn’t tell. A mix and match of people, a mix and match of lives. A lady at the corner table was reading a book. I wanted to know what it was, but I didn’t ask for fear of the weird look. But the feeling kept coming back to me, something’s going on here something’s happening. Not the usual blue funk of a new place but something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, something I couldn’t quite catch. I was sitting at a table around the people I had bared my soul to, watching them, trying to figure them out, trying to empathize with them, I felt naked. People kept looking at me and I kept looking at them. Not the strange look but the hey look. Someone brought dice and they started playing a game. It wasn’t craps so I opted out to watch, I kept looking at my riding friend, wondering if this was some kinda weird courting ritual, or an even weirder test. She kept looking at me, maybe trying to figure me out, maybe trying to put me in the right filling cubbyhole.

Brett, Brian, Billy, come on help me come up with guys names that start with B. I couldn’t think of any. The pink haired guy had remembered her name, and she was trying to remember his. Calling out names and looking at him for confirmation. He was her type he knew her turf. I almost asked her to go over there and ask his name, but I knew it was a game that they had to play out. The guy next to me was having a birthday party this Sunday. Hey dude, why don’t you meet me at the pancake circus on Sunday for my birthday party. I agreed to go. I knew what it was like to have birthday parties alone. Even though I hated pancake circus. The dice game was going along. People were coming in and out. Mingling, laughing and fitting in. I knew I wanted to leave, I was tired and feeling lonely. She belonged here, I didn’t. I knew shed get a ride and I was trying to find the right opportunity to bug out. As I was going to the bathroom, I saw a social butterfly; she was pretty good looking, but ugly in her attempt to try to impress people. To try and look good. I wanted to say. Hey that’s against the rules that not the way it is downtown, ya gota look like a looser ya gota look like you don’t care. She was broking the rules and I knew it. Waiting outside of the unisex bathroom was a pretty woman. Dark hair pretty eyes and a loving smile, but the look the look was what got me. Desire, wanting, longing, needing. Not for me per say not at me. But the same face I see in the mirror when I let my guard down. Not the sex junky I show the world. I wanted to say something; I wanted to acknowledge this thing, this commonness I recognized. Is there someone already in there was all that I could manage to say. And the moment was lost. The walls came up and reality slapped us on the face like a bad child. I went to the bathroom. I had to get out of there. This place had my card, and I didn’t want it punched. As I went back to the table I looked around with new eyes. They were all that way. They all felt that way. This wasn’t a place filled with sex junkies lookin for a fix. It was filled with lonely hearts just like mine. That was the indefinable that something that my instincts picked up on, the thing that I just couldn’t get because it was too close to home. That was it I had to get out I had to get away. I made my excuses. And made sure that my ridding partner had a way home. And I left like a child not knowing what to do where to put his hands, how to walk. Maybe it was the name of the place, the sacred magic of a name and the ability to attract those who come there. I had thought The True love Café was a hypocrisy and I had thought wrong. I tore out of there like a bat outa hell. This place of deepness and darkness, of need and desire, of want and wanting. The magic of a name and the feel of a home, just like me and I knew that id never go there again.