COWBOY COFFEE - Jaywalker Blues pt.2

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Dec 22, 2009, 10:46am

COWBOY COFFEE :: MARS :: MARS: General Environs :: Jaywalker Blues pt.2 - Ball and Chain

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Topic: Jaywalker Blues pt.2 - Ball and Chain (Read 212 times)

Ne Budi!
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Jaywalker Blues pt.2 - Ball and Chain
« Thread Started on Sept 24, 2005, 7:26pm »

Jaywalker Blues pt.2: Ball and Chain

“Sittin' down by my window,
Honey, lookin' out at the rain.
Lord, Lord, Lord, sittin' down by my window,
Baby, lookin' out at the rain.
Somethin' came along, grabbed a hold of me,
And it felt just like a ball and chain.
Honey, that's exactly what it felt like,
Honey, just dragging me down.
And I say, oh, whoa, whoa, now hon', tell me why,
Why does every single little tiny thing I hold on goes wrong?...

…Love's got a hold on me, baby,
Feels just like a ball and chain.
Now, love's just draggin' me down, baby, yeah,
Feels like a ball and chain.”
(“Ball and Cain” Janis Joplin, Cheap Thrills, 1968)

A touch of wind motioned the laundry lines stretched in every direction across a narrow concrete courtyard, at the dead end of a winding alley. It kissed the white foamed sea of sheets and pantaloons once more, and in a blink of an eye – turned into a raging hurricane, tearing them away from their nylon strings and carrying them up the empty well. Higher and higher – into the open sky above.

A small yellow jet came to a shaky landing at that secluded spot. With a poisonous hiss of equalizing pressure, a streak of grey daylight gushed inside the ship’s luggage compartment. Jessica sneered with grim anticipation.
“Ehe-he…” she tumbled out of her self inflicted prison, suppressing a shriek of pain in her tormented back, “Well, I think I've had my share of suffering for today. Seems to me it’s somebody else’s turn," in a sharp motion she straightened her overall, and run her hands through her disheveled hair, "So, if you have any last words… GACK?”
All of a sudden Michelle just buried her face in Jen’s shoulder. Her own were shaking like crazy. Tousled and upset she’d emit a nervous hiccup with every second breath. Dumbfound, Jessica peeked down at the girl's blazing red head in her chest. “Michelle?...” The tears broke out from their cage, and the voices of crying soared above the city.

In a dead end of a winding alley, two women stood embraced on the bottom of a concrete well, and white foam of linen rained down on them from above.

***

Sweet lips… why does it have to feel so good?

It was just right. This time. Every time. My sweet lips. My lover. My Damien.
The song goes: “A woman only needs one – one good man.”* Yep, baby, you're all I need. So, if you’re mine tonight I’ll hold on to you as tight as I can – but if we have to say goodbye I’ll smile for you, baby, with my heart. My sweet. My sting. Forgive me… why does it have to feel so good?

Fire and blood and shattered glass. Milton’s scull blowing in a thousand pieces against the stars’ cold light. Again and again. And for some reason it’s Damien’s eyes staring back up the gun's barrel, again and again. And again. And again.

The girl in the hatch of the yellow jet whimpered and smeared the tears over her face, leaving a red smudge on a freckled cheek. Her near hysterical sobs drifted away with the dry desert wind. Crouched on the edge of the hatch’s rim she was hugging her naked knees, still clasping the handle of his gun in her hand. A strap of her crinkled dress has slipped off. The white and purple silk on her stomach and lower was all soaked in blood.
In front of her in the dust, lay a blue haired cowboy.

“…Ack.” The girl winced.
The body flinched. The cowboy’s hand lifted up, fingers twisted in agony. His feet pushed away in the dirt. He was fighting.
Her aching heart throbbed to the erratic beat of the man's breath. A worn blue sneaker touched the ground. She brushed away the uninvited tears.

A ginger girl kneeled beside the cowboy, placed the gun on his chest. “Hash… It’s OK. It’s OK, baby. It’s OK… hash, baby… hash…” her hand stroked his hair, as if he was a child waking up from a bad dream. And slowly his muscles loosened, the shaking subsided, his breath becoming slow and shallow. She pressed her lips against his forehead, feeling him burning up with fever, tasting his cold sweat.

“Hush…” Tears ran down her face, but she was smiling, smiling for him.

* “One Good Man”
Janis Joplin
I Got Dem Ol' Kozmic Blues Again Mama! (1969)

« Last Edit: Oct 16, 2005, 5:32pm by Ne Budi! »

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