Maybe yes, maybe no.
Maybe yes, maybe no?
I been hiding in the highway 35 taverns for three months. Started drinking early and writing, the happy hours blues poetry. Once I was the great dreamer, wanting everything and more.
Now I love the darkness and I am trying to hide from a memory. I told my rum and coke. I can not love, I have never loved. Just a thief in the garden of love, seeking salvation in my silence.
On a breezy Winter day in Belton, Texas. Pretty Texas lady found me at the dancehall bar drinking the three dollars Long Island ice teas. I felt her eyes on my back and I turned. I saw her eyes, not pissed-off, they were soft and kind. She wore a white dress, bare shoulders showing me her butterflies tattoos on her shoulders and the beginning of her rose bush rolling down her back.
I told her, hello beautiful Layla. She looked sad and she asked. Where you been Johnnie? Playing hide and seek on highway 35. You never wrote back from Bosnia and I was worried for you. The taverns bartenders told me, you been drinking alone and talking to the ghost again.
I told her. Dear Layla, no-one need a man seeking death. You deserve more than a man drowning in his own disease. Many kind of sickness, maybe I was born with my poison. My mama was a Gypsy and maybe I am seeking the things I don’t need.
She smiled and she whispered. We do, anything to belong. We will sell our soul to the devil and scream words at the moon and the stars. Words to the moon and to the stars to be heard by no-one, just silence prayers for us with nothing to be gained or to be lost. No-one should be alone. Love, maybe yes, maybe no? Maybe just gestures to make us feel we are alive.
She took my hand and we danced on the lonely dance floor. I loved her fiery gaze, her hazel eyes seeking life in my black eyes and black heart. I loved her smell of lavender on her skin and I whispered. You are a Texas wildflower, loco and sweet. You love the danger of angry men, strong whiskey and the long Texas night. Where do we go from here dear Layla?
She smiled and she told me. I found my lost sheep and my door is wide open. You can follow me home or escape into the Texas night. We decide where we belong. You can drink yourself to death or find a place of comfort. I love you dear Johnnie, the highway 35 poet need a place to feel safe and sound too. You can’t save a world that doesn’t want to be saved. We must save ourselves. Find some kindness and sweetness in our messy life.
The Belton, Texas bartender gave me some coffee and I told dear Layla. You are noble, beautiful and so kind. A blessing to my heart. I will follow you home and I hope I won’t steal your joy and happiness. I don’t want to break your heart. She smiled and she whispered, you have broke my heart many times. You loved war, new countries and the drink more than me. Maybe you have learn? Wars shall never end, the long highway won’t miss you and the drink. Just make us forget for a second. Could be the last change for you dear love.