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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2027066-Green-Monster-Bridge
Rated: 18+ · Other · Cultural · #2027066
I began a short story long ago. This is a piece of it.
                                            The Green Monster Bridge





I'm a rover. Alone. A king without his country. Invisible chains wrapped tight around my feet, not allowing me to stray to far from my memories. Home for me is a basement scented tent with a river view and a track side backyard. The old growth Forest, is my grave yard. Night time I hear the whistle of the passing train, and the deep blast of the river barge, and the crazy howling of the coyote. These are the sounds of my city.

Hello, I'm Sammy. Of average height, wind tangled grayish hair and red eyes-I used to cry a lot. Scotch took that away. So smooth and honest. Easy on the mind and the memories too. It never freezes in the winter time either, and that's something I'm grateful for-this isn't Arizona. The bottle so skinny and sexy, she's my pocket wife. I never leave home without her. I had a real wife once, but the bridge took her. Steele green beams rising out of the cold dark water, reaching into the fog of prosperity. SUV's, Range Rovers and RV's riding on her pot holed deck, going no place. No place that matters anyway. People jumping into the better life of the dark moody waters of that filthy river. Drivers passing them by in their make believe world of toys.

She was a short wife, but huge on patience. Cute as a bugs ear. Skin  smooth as angel wings. A voice found only in paradise,and paradise was where ever she was. My little Mary Ann. My pie baker, heart breaker, card player, life maker. But the pressure took her away from me and into the deep. Her mind, once so sharp, then poisoned by Hollywood movies, sitcoms and newspaper coupons. Mary left me, before she left everyone else.

It was a year ago they found her body, bobbing up and down in the pool of the roller dam. The locals call it the washer machine of death. If a body rolls over the dam, the agitation up and down movement of the water  makes it near impossible to retrieve the body until it breaks free.  Well, I had to claim Mary in the morgue in town. I told the coroner I wanted to bury her out of state so she could be with her mother. So he prepared the body for the trip. Instead, I dug her grave in those woods I live next to. I haven't been back since, for I couldn't bare to see if some asshole animal dug her up. Do I miss her? Where's Mary? Where;s my scotch?

I have friend. We met in a ditch near one of the two Wal  Marts in town. I was sleeping off a drunk from the night before. I felt a cold wet kiss on my nose, and as I awoke, I saw him. A tomcat. He was grey in color and his tail was missing fur from the tip on down a quarter of the way. As if someone used a wire cutter or something on him. I took the cat to my tent, built a fire and shared a can of mackerel with him. I named him Captain Pabst. he isn't an old cat, no, He's in the prime of his life like me. We both starve from time to time, and hate the cold.





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