Unfinished business was my business.

I had every conversation that needed to be had. I left people crying, shamed and grateful.

I settled every account that needed to be settled. I left people penniless and flush.

There was only one person to see now. I sat her down. And said nothing. Asked nothing. Took nothing. Wanted nothing.

We can be here as long as she needs. Life is on the table.

April 18, 1975.

How was your day?

I made it.

The table is set. The children are seated. The milk is poured. Grace will be said. It’s meatloaf, mashed potatoes, candied carrots and gravy tonight. There’s leftover lemon meringue pie in the fridge.

A song leaks from the transistor radio. Quiet, from This Will Destroy You. It will be recorded in the not distant future.

I'll hug her after dinner. 

Then and now.

I made it.

September 17, 2026

The speed bumps are much larger than before. At the end of the road. They crack my spine, numb my jaw.

Slow. Cattle Crossing. School Crossing. Construction Zone. No Turn on Red. Chains Required. Steep Incline. Passing Prohibited. Speed Cameras Ahead. Wildlife Crossing. Dead End. Stop. Children at Play. Road Closed.

All the girls had edible skin from where I came. I should have filled my belly. My dogs were still alive. My teeth were white. My eyes were somewhere between hazel and toasted caramel. I had mountains to climb. I sucked a glacier-fed lake dry. I remember how love smelled. The snow sat a foot deep on the hood of my Dad’s ’68 Chrysler New Yorker.

Rest stop ahead.

Last chance for gas. 

I was young and dumb once.

I’d like to think I outgrew it.

A kid at the gym, a trainer, asked me if I’d ever tried creatine for my arthritic knees. I smiled and thought about my grandfather and his aching back, and the stupid shit I probably said to him. 

I wasn’t built for standing still.

It was a shameful, the way I left.

It became clear after I stopped running. 

—hoarding a minute's rest.

The dust at my feet was genteel and deadly. 

Gracious in the same way they talked about me at my wake. 

As if I couldn’t hear them. 

Settling.

The cemetery is filled with men like me.

Clawing their way back.

Me, too.

The love thing…you.

I should order flowers. Leave them at the door. Run like hell. But I want credit for the effort, so I can add a card, sure. Print or cursive, my name? I'll have to decide.

And,

the love thing…too.

I’m comforted by the shriek of a chainsaw. 

Shredding the breeze.

Singing to me through my window screen.

Work’s being done out there.

I know I’m not alone.

One word.

No.

It lands on my shoulder like a bag of wet cement.

My life was altered. 

Did I fall victim to the butterfly effect? Who knows where I’d be now. After I hit send on this, I’ll check the street to see if I can catch a glimpse of me driving by. The wind in my hair. I’ve been bald for decades.

I have two shoulders. 

I’ve kept the good one safeguarded.

I also stopped asking hard questions.

I was smiling.

The blunt instrument came from nowhere. Blindsided.

Broke my nose. Chipped a few teeth.

I knew my assailant. Loved her, even.

It wasn’t intentional. So, the explanation always goes.

I guess I’ll try to believe that.

But it does put a damper on the rest of my day.

Sometimes you gotta challenge the gods.

I’m trying to make sense out of the rain. And other terminal concerns. The rain is coming down faster than I can count the drops. At a near 45-degree angle. A slicing deluge. So many open wounds. I can almost see the pattern. Hear it in the thunder.

The trees are swaying but that’s familiar and boring. A stream of piss from Odin pours off the roof. We need one of those wooden barrels to catch the stuff. It’s the high desert. Everyone’s worried about the lack of water…in the desert. I should probably tell them that’s how it works, and to keep their expectations in check. But who’ll rush to the Rio Grande and point dumbfounded if I do? I’m putting grass in next spring. Sshhh…it’ll be our little secret.

It’s cooling off now. I can’t predict what’s next but it’s conceivable the rain will stop. After that it may be chaos, may be lollipops. My teeth ache at the thought of it.

The predictable trees can kiss my ass.

An old woman is dead. Her funeral was lightly attended. She bequeathed her prize possession, a silver tea set, to her daughter. It’s heavily tarnished after years of neglect. The old woman originally took possession of the tea set after another old woman, her mother, died. Her funeral was also lightly attended. The tea set was heavily tarnished after years of neglect.

The tea set is now on display in its new owner’s home.

“Mommy, should we polish it?”

“No, young lady, it’s fine as is. It’ll be yours someday.”

Eternity is a long time.

The wiry man sitting next to me on the bus thought that.

And I heard it.

I saw a billboard advertising cell phones. Another for the new Bronco.

They killed that makeover. Chopped its balls off, I thought.

The man placed his hand lightly on my arm and nodded.

That’s the truth, he thought.

Ain’t it, I thought.

We didn’t think another damned thought the rest of the way.

We sat there. Anesthetized.

T-Mobile. Coke. Jerry’s Bail Bonds and State Farm.

He hopped off at 11th and Central.

Bye, he thought.

See ya, I thought.

It seemed like forever that we had never thought.

Abe asked me: would I plant a tree that never provided me shade?

We’re sitting on his back porch, tossing a couple back. His dog is lunging at a moth circling the porch light.

“I would,” he says, answering his own question. He’s that kind of guy—lets me borrow his mower, picks up the tab, volunteers for every thankless thing at work. Always smiling like he knows something I don’t.

I like him.

Mostly.

I also resent him—in an inaudible way.

So, I'll just sit and sip my beer. My grass needs a trim.

I got messed up.

“We’ve been here before,” I said.

“We have?”

“Yeah, but not together. You were with that guy who was accused of raping about ten women. Something like that. You were just out of high school. Rented a room at his place. With the high ceilings. Said you never knew about it. The accusations. Saw a story in the Journal. That’s how you found out. You told me that. I wish you hadn’t. I had so many questions.”

“Wait, what…I never told you…”

“I was here for happy hour with a bunch of people from work. Years ago, too. Someone asked the group who they’d make out with if they could pick. A chunky girl, Denise, said me. She had a really pretty face. I found out later she had a thing going with another girl on my team, a super-skinny coke head. Kris. That woulda been interesting.”

I go to the bar and order our drinks. Since I’ve Been Loving You is playing in my head. I saw Zeppelin at the War Memorial in Syracuse before I moved here the first time. I was about 20. We’re much older now.

I opened my front door.

I heard my back door slam.

We were never here. But here we are again.