I.
After the lake has been frozen for a few months I will on occasion find myself completely unaware that underneath the violent ice there is a rushing, a water - sweet, dark and cold. I’ll say to Joann or Stacy or Bob, we can walk here now. Our waking universe has expanded. Nature only shows deference or remorse anymore. And I’ll really mean it when I say this. Then we’ll go inside Henry’s, my bar, our bar, and we’ll each order a round - a pitcher of Shiner Bock –descending into the evening gratefully. Before long I’ll stare into my beer and remember that the water is still there beneath the ice. It probably moves in a sweet, dark and cold flow just like a beer. I forgot about the water under the ice I’ll say. Bob, will raise his glass with a woozy camaraderie as if he forgets these little things too and I will love him.
II.
Back inside the workweek we live in a world of Tuesday mornings and ergonomic office chairs. On Tuesday, Jason called me when he got home from school to ask if he could use the car that night. He had a date. I told him he could pick it up at Henry’s after 6. He immediately started cursing me out but I hung up quietly before he could say anything too foolish. It takes time to be a man. I smoked a lot of cigarettes the night before and hit on this woman I went to high school with. I think her name is Debbie. I called Jason for a ride but his phone was dead. I don’t remember going back to Debbie’s shitty apartment on the east side but that’s where I woke up. I got up at 7am and took a cab back to the house. I didn’t have time to shower or shave or make Jason breakfast or just talk and be normal.
III.
Spring comes late. The trees speak to the sky. In city park a runner across a field. Two teenagers slow dance to some Bob Dylan song in a parking lot forever. The gnawing is gone. The lake is a lake. All water now. I remember.
(The Chills’ Kaleidoscope World was released in 1986 and is still fantastic)
