Keep Moving

Keep Moving

So you’re in a funky El Paso coffee shop alone sitting by the door, full of melancholy over a lost love that you hope a triple shot Americano can lift your spirits from, when a red haired woman wearing a black coat sets a folded piece of fancy grey paper next to your cup and hurries out the door.

You grab your raincoat and follow her out, knocking your coffee cup so you hear its musical shatter on the floor, but you do not care, you’re looking around the parking lot and spot the woman climbing into a blue Volvo and driving away. You run after her car, memorizing her license plate, and then you stop and dig a piece of paper from your wallet to write it down, promising yourself you’ll look up her name and address on the internet. You’ve never done it before but been told that license plates are public knowledge and anyone can find addresses and names that way.  

Is a terrorist plot afoot? Was the woman in the black coat touched by your sour face and wished to rescue you before the place went up in flames? Standing in the desert rain, your raincoat still draped over your shoulder, you slowly open the grey notepaper, dreaming of a love confession like a girl might leave on the desk of a young and handsome high school English teacher, but no, it’s an advertisement for what appears to be a legitimate massage service in an upscale supermarket -- or maybe it’s no legitimate?

 You shrug your shoulders. You sigh. You put your raincoat on and start trudging toward your car. You used to drive a Volvo like hers, back in a different life, before you got tossed out of the academic world and got to trying real estate. Thirty bucks for a half hour of a woman’s soft hands. Maybe she can tease away your lost love blues. That one, she left you, she said, because you always talked like a professor. This one, she looked all right, older, maybe more accepting from what your eyes could see. You might strike up a conversation.

Chuck Taylor

I've replaced roofs and worked in factories and been a children's
magician and a college professor of writing. Right now I am doing some
taxi rideshare. I have three grown children and a wonderful spouse
named Takako. I discovered Chuck Taylor shoes one late afternoon
resting from a run on the track team. Crossed my legs and there it
was, my signature on a show.

https://m.facebook.com/chucktaylorallstarshoesnot/