Those two square slants of roof, that wisp-of-smoke
chimney, that door with the window in it,
that shining window with the panes in it,
them geraniums and eyelet curtains,
winking me a welcome home but for this:
what are these hearts in the turf, these indents
in the yard, this moss, that memory stone
a poured concrete circle, a date drawn with
a stick, below it the impression of
a wife-sized hand and a cloven heart?
I’m fucking dead?
I dropped the call with a crisp acrylic tap, knowing exactly who waited for my arrival at Café La Croix. So, I called Chekr from my bedroom where I am allegedly getting ready to meet friends at a St. Tropez-style brunch, but really was going for, you know. While I practiced my shade-filled deadpan in the mirror, my Chekr arrived, and it waited outside, and I knew I was going to be, like, at least another fifteen minutes. I cancelled the Chekr. Maybe it was rude, a little, but I thought I am thoughtful. After another twenty minutes I was, you know, ready, so I called another Chekr and guess what? It was the same guy. He kept accepting my request and cancelling. I can’t get another car. I saw my Chekr idling under the maple across the street. How rude. By the way: My gel tips are fucking coming off in case anybody gives a rolling fuck. Chekr is soooooo much rudeness.
Hello. Very happy to meet you. Delighted. How is it going today? You are touring with your son. It is a pleasure to travel by car. How to say mine is with me and not here. What? I have a room downtown. What about you? Great, buddy. Thanks. When is your vacation? In July? Sun. Warm. Hot. Will you go to the beach? How do I say windows, or it doesn’t make one bit of difference? At home, everybody is all right? A son? Very good. Go to the door, please. I had one son, a boy. (He left a note, left it in his father’s office.) Excuse me, sir. Could you please help me? Can you help me please? Who is that guy? Do you know him? (How you say? Overdose. Easy. Peaceful.) Yes, I am from Barcelona. Is this a good idea? It’s not going too well, thanks. I I need helping.
A.E. Weisgerber is a 2018 Chesapeake Bay Writer and 2017 Frost Place Scholar. Stories in Heavy Feather, Alaska Star, SmokeLong, Essaying Daily, FLAPPERHOUSE, great weather for MEDIA, Matchbook, DIAGRAM, Collapsar, and Zoetrope Cafe’s Story Machine. Follow @aeweisgerber or visit anneweisgerber.com