Love: a strong positive emotion of regard and affection

2009-07-31T17:45:00.000-07:00

A different kind of love.

The Pyromaniac and the Gas Station Girl
by Brent Cunnhingham

I met her on my way to burn the mall
and loved her instantly and with enthusiasm.
All night, I circled her booth, candles
blazing on the dashboard, cold brain soup
sloshing through my head. At dawn
I sailed in with both windows down,
the sun like a blind junkie, the tank
like a grotto. Fill me up, darling. I’m empty.
And, yes, it was that kind of love. Meat
and potatoes love. One afternoon, burning
the golf course, the thin bones in my forehead
opened, a slug of light, a hole
the size of a wedding band, the river
like black urine. I needed a clean
shirt, maybe some wingtips and a steady
job, but in a few months, BANGO,
we rented a flat by the fireworks factory
and started making babies. Now and then
I got the itch, burned down a Fotomat
or a Taco Bell, but mostly it was cake
and dumplings, me and my sweetie
strolling through the dinosaur museum,
orange blossoms for breakfast, jaybirds
for lunch. It's a funny thing
how you settle down, start hiding matches
and poison from the kids, spend your weekends
installing shower nozzles, but it happens.
And pretty soon you start thinking
like you're happy, like you never need
to burn another deli, like all those fires
were only lanterns on the path to this life,
this oak door, this stretch of lawn
where your daughters swing their mallets
and chase painted balls. One day, you are fifty
and your wife dresses in her old uniform
and brings you cocktails and shouts happy
birthday. But you wonder. You fork
cake down your throat and wonder
if you can still rub two sticks together,
if you’ve still got the old magic,
the old razzle dazzle. And that night,
for the first time in decades,
you dream that all of Texas is on fire.

I remember the first time I read this poem. I read it three times through & the imagery that came to mind nearly floored me. While dreary & possibly a bit morbid, the parallel to the my life, the breath of epiphany I enveloped with his word choice hit home. A meat and potatoes kind of love, 'start to think like you're happy'... What will it be like in 30 years? Each phase of life offers a different challenge, a different sense of being, but in the end - we all remain who we are & once were.

A pyromaniac or a gas station girl.

Life: One Day At A Time

Love: a strong positive emotion of regard and affection