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david lee wright
Burnside Dreamgirl
My lips were left upheld and undertow, gone blue. The crazy dreams I have of her, I prefer not to think are so crazy. She isn't even a voice in my head but she reads me my mail. Under the freeway gates, we'd spray paint big number 1's and 9's to let the locals know who was new in town. I liked to pick up the food from the shelter and take it to the old broken down car we slept in and see if I could wake her up, so she wouldn't sleep so late. She was stubborn and sexy under her dress with tight jean shorts underneath. I always wanted to forget everything else and climb in there with her and act like we were driving to see each other, in dreams if need be, in new days, in different dawns. I would take her out to all the finest places to eat, those dreams, and we could laugh over stolen wine after we ditched the bill. If you ever need food just dine and ditch, it won't kill anyone. We tried not to steal but hungry people should be able to eat all they want and have someone to help them stay on track. She helped me stay on track, for awhile, when all I wanted was to cook up and taste poppy seeds in my teeth and fly with bubbles in the sky. She found me my first day on the street and we went for bread behind the Italian place down the alley from the wig shop. I'm not sure how she found all those vegetables but she always did. Cucumbers and tomato! Mushrooms and zucchini! We would sit just west of the big green dumpster on 2nd Street, eating what she had made for our daily bread, watching the river and the Rose Parade. If I opened my mouth her finger was quick pressed to my lips to make sure I kept my mind on the occasion and didn't waste energy yapping during our meal. After we were full we would stare into the wig shop window and dream up alias names for our future cross country crime spree. She would take care of everything, it seemed. Imploring for spare change on the street one day we came across a hundred dollar bill. She left me alone long enough to buy but then came around afterwards and we went straight to the church, on the other side of downtown, and gave it to that nun with the big, bulging false teeth. At first the nun said "Oh, heavens no, child." But she insisted and I didn't mind. I told the nun, "Oh, heavens yes, heavens yes ma'am." Almost eighty dollars went to the little kids and their soup that day. We went back to the freeway bridge and somehow that broken down car that we had called "bed" was parked somewhere else, gone. I guess she had fixed that when I was begging money. I didn't mind. I found a half full can of bright blue and painted her portrait on a rag and then on the wall. "All we are is chemicals" she would say. "All we are is dirt and rocks and water and stars." She had tattoos of stars all over her body, nine stars in all, to tune the stations in clear when transmitting to the nebula and calling out hush-hush messages to the angels here on earth. I noticed too that she had constellations of freckles all over her body and when we would take showers together at the jailhouse, or the Outreach, I would watch for shooting stars through her Scorpion breast, always alive. She would kiss me so nice. She would wake me up in the middle of the night when the freeway trucks came crashing past suddenly. She would tell me how much she needed me and that if I ever left her she would float up into the milky way and pay a visit to each and every star for me and her both. I, of course, said that that was impossible. I would tell her how I would follow her anywhere she went and I would be by her side to keep her constellations counted and aligned. I woke up one day, alone. I thought it'd be a good time to cook before she got back from the bread store. Before I could even light the lighter I felt more asleep than I had ever felt before. I woke up again on the top of the freeway bridge, looking into the bright, bright gray sun. I could see Burnside and I could see the river and I could see my giant luminous stag sign, glowing through the mist, ready to ride me home, to where she was.
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