torn labels

Trolley motions me from th hard-stare scratches of th bar
to a table in a corner of th room.  wooden dancefloor and
a handful of bodies move in and out of one another beneath
th silent approval of wildlife.  th crowd is a familiar morph
of unfamiliar faces dancing wingless beneath pulsing lights.

pearl jam and for a moment life is easy and upheld – I float
on a neon pulse through th black – 

                I know you’ll be a star
                in somebody else’s sky
                but why…

we’re all angels w/ clipped wings
trapd in an anti-gravity chamber,
for a sec. 

sleepless coyotes, Trolley and I slip into opposite sides of th
red vinyl booth.  th mellow corner of th raging room suits me
fine as  

pheromones glitter in th strobe light like powder from a
bustd pill-cap.   

She leans forward, sips her Boddingtons, crosses her paws on
th table and talks of herself : training to be a member of Rocky
Mountain Search and Rescue; patrols th mts in a helicopter by
day, and slings drinks at th Ice Cave in night.  

– people do some hardcore shit around here, but not many
people attempt Mt Katami, Trolley says.

I stare into my glass and ponder th difficulty of climbing th'ice
cubes.

– photography, I say.

she takes a pull of her beer.  truth wells in her eyes deep, blue
and bulletproof, so to say, see you in another room.  but then
again, I could be drunk.

– do you know anything about the mtn…like that more people
have been killd by bears this year than have summitd.

I shrug.  th scene of my father laying in th grass, out of sight,
lens pointd at th golden beasts, flash, es in th dead pan of my
mind.

– besides, th base of th mtn is closed anyways after a finnish
climber was mauld by a grizzly two weeks ago.  it’s probably
going to remain closed for the rest of th fall.  it’s been a poor
season for berries and there’s nothing they won’t eat.  doesn’t
seem worth a picture to me.

– no one can really know th value of another’s foto, I say.

Trolley goes on to explain that she was part of the rescue team
that had pulld slammung’s bloody body off th mtn.  th shreds of
north face, th exposd bone, a bed of flesh.  his climbing partner
survived and w/ one leg managed to climb a tree where he bled
to death.

– well I’m sick of pictures of churches, and im even sick of porn.
if you find me up there be sure to develop my
pics.  death as my biographer.  it’s either  that or I drown trying
to get a shot of th bottom of an emerald lake.

Trolley feigns a laugh and leans back in th red, takes a long pull
of gold from th frostd glass and looks towards th dancers. 

ramble on, til I get there.

– I’m aware of where I’m going anyways, or else I wouldn’t be
going there, so I don’t need a lecture, really.

– yah, well I have no problems lecturing you or anyone around
here cuz I’m th one who hauls th bodies when shit goes down.
in two years I’ve seen enough accidents from people going where
they shouldn’t.  left me no faith in common sense. 

– you couldn’t lift me if I was in one piece or two, I say.

she laughs, leans back and bends her arms like wings. 

– it’s those kids out there that keep me th busiest anyways, She
says, pointing out to th bodies in various states of flung on th
dance floor.

– yeah…

– they think they’re fuckin invincible on their titanium mountain
bikes and snowboards signd by pros. what makes someone think
they can land a forty-foot drop off a cliff just cuz they got a new
full-suspension Kona.

– don’t worry, I won’t be launching off of any cliffs out there.  At
least not on a bike, I say.

– you’re funny, Cody, but I have a hard time telling if you’re joking.

you young w/ broken bones and concussions. you people going
where you shouldn’t without experience, blah – scramblers, high ice-
climbers.  elevation, you’re the one that comes back wrapped in
bloody blankets.

– fucking yourself is one thing; fucking nature is another, Trolley
continues.

– save your breath for when you get outside, I say, taking a drink
and wondering for a moment what exactly that meant.  but I didn’t
care, words are free.  

we stare at th dance floor through plastic eyes.  she discusses
th less interesting details of her life.  I offer nothing of myself.
my mind wanders through nine inch nails and my eyes dig holes
in th cracks of her smile.    

# posted by hardyf : 17:36