Lonely tonight…no woman in my bed (she’s in another city)…and the friends/family have all retreated to their conventional, socially expected evenings.
The id churns. The darkside of the man wakes. Sleep it seems is not on the agenda. Not easily anyway.
There’s stuff for margaritas in the kitchen…
But there’s a full moon outside…and a big black mistress, nicknamed “The Dragon”, patiently waiting in the driveway for me to ride her…and she likes it hard.
It’s gonna be chilly tonight…and the full moon I feel the urge to howl at is obscured by the clouds…here anyway.
But it’s supposed to be clear just a couple-hundred miles to the west…an all night run…there and back.
Back. Once there, back is optional…and I wonder if this might be the time I just keep going.
And then I’m thinking of fallen friends. Regretting the loss of some, and fretting the distance life puts between others. Ponderings that sting even more when they are dragged out into the light for close examination.
“The truth shall set you free” they say…and this requires examination in the light. Remembered loss and pain…physical and mental…claws its way to the surface. For me, examination in the light does not change or diminish it in the slightest. It simply highlights the failures, reveals the scars, and enhances the pain.
Perhaps that’s why I like the night. But it’s a cold night…and I learned long ago that the cold, dark places of the world are where my particular demons spring from…it’s where they reign…it’s where they are strongest. It’s near folly for me to challenge them there.
But I’m itching for a fight…for a challenge. Yet as I think that I realize…sleep would do the soul some good…perhaps more good than the fight. Perhaps not. The passion…the *drive* is there…and sleep will be elusive and fitful without *her* there to calm it.
Perhaps the margaritas would help that…but while I enjoy them…their particular “medicinal” effects on me are short-lived and undependable. It’s not a vice I truly indulge in, much less depend on.
Of course, it’s a long way…but the ride could take me to the woman…
Challenges any way I care to turn…and occasionally I don’t know if I’m up to meeting any of them, much less all of them. Complex motivations and relentless drives combine desire, pain, strengths, and weaknesses into something resembling a man.
On a good day anyway.
Am I up to the challenges? This night I don’t know. Sometimes I just have to go find out.
A motorcycle (not mine) roars down the street. In the quiet town I can hear him retreat into the east, ramming the machine through its gears…and my throttle hand twitches in time with the rise and fall of his engine.
It’s a toss up…with impossibly high stakes. My very soul…it seems, may be at stake.
A ride. A woman. A drink. A fight. A sleep. Or perhaps all. Six choices it seems.
And I have this handy dice. Six sides. Six choices.
A wanderer’s soul is a pesky thing…but it’s the only one I possess.
So the die is cast…and it skitters off the table and lands near my feet. I glance at the number and leave it where it lies.
The choice made. The action determined.
So be it. Once the course is determined there is no room left for hesitation.
Choice. It’s mine and mine only.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll know if it was the right one.