Zigman Zibanski claims proudly to be a student of the human condition. But when the Krakatoa immigrant by way of Krakow studies too deeply the dark pages of his life, he becomes self-blaming for his failings and will many times turns recklessly to drink. Like what happened last night. With his osmotic stomach drenched in cheap tequila, he shambled loosely up some stairs and staggered into an oak door.
He knocked the door furiously with his forehead. "Andrea" he cried out. "Andrea, open the door I have no where else to run."
He answered the long silence with a louder knock. "Andrea, it's Ziggy. Please come and speak to me. I know it's been years and I treated you so bad then. I know I never should have let you go, but you got to give me one more chance."
He turned his back to the door and sat cross-legged as well as he could. With his open hand he touched the bump on his head. He then pulled a flask of Tequila from his coat pocket and took a long drink.
The porch light went on and the door opened and shut quickly, but Zigman had been occupied with the note he had begun to write:
It's Ziggy. You must remember me? Back in the mid-90s we were lovers, meant for each other. We were going to marry someday. Do you recall the times we spent together? Our big dreams to sail the Detroit River? Our dream to make love at the strip mines of Northern Manitoba? It should of happened. You were the good one. It is me who was all bad.
Lately I'm like Mickey Rourke in the Wrestler. I sit on the edge of my bed and ache from life. I eat cold beans out of a can and do my best to keep my trailer park unit clean. You'd be proud to see I scrub the uric stains on my bathroom floor and take out the bottles of booze as best I can. But I get sad sometimes, so I just watch bad movies on my old black and white TV. But when I sit with my back hurting on the edge of my bed I think mostly of us.
See without you it's like I got a vitamin deficiency in my life. It's like my soul and spirit need some nourishment and you're that last green vegetable that can save me.
I know I treated you bad. I know I shouldn't of hung around that guy Hickory McCracken from the Human Paradox Blog. I know it was wrong when he introduced me to that feather dance stripper from Boise, Idaho. Boom Boom was her name.
I'm just saying I recognize now what I had in you. This time I'll clean up my act and treat you better.
Love and Bear Hugs,
He folded the note and put it into the mailbox. But when he turned around he fell into the strong arms of the law.
"OK, Zigman. We're taking you in," an officer said. "Like we told you a million times, Andrea moved to the coast ten years ago."
"Which one?" Zibanski asked.
"The one in the middle," was the reply.
They all laughed as the officers placed handcuffs on the wrists of the great student of the human condition.
Tomorrow, when Zigman becomes sober, he'll make a phone call. He'll call good ole Hickory and say they should get together once more, maybe team up with the feather dance stripper from Boise. Boom Boom was her name.
Poetry Pantry #412
17 hours ago