Chicago and Houston

You go to the local pub. You buy a Chicago Sun-Times on the way over. Once there, you drink some Buds at a very sedate pace and read the paper.

A guy sitting next to you starts talking to you about the girlfriend he used to have in Chicago, but who has since moved to Houston. He’s bought her Christmas presents already even though she’s essentially dumped him.

You think of the woman who used to be your girlfriend, the woman who once lived in the Houston suburbs, the woman who you loved the most in your whole wasted life. You think of the places in Texas where you both once went together, Galveston, San Antonio, Austin, and all the places in between.

You wax sentimental, pull inside yourself. You put a couple of tunes on the jukebox. The bartender buys you a shot of Maker’s Mark whiskey. You buy another beer and a pack of Camel straights. You smoke and drink and you know you cannot make it any harder than this. It takes a while before your songs play.

Your songs, “God Bless Texas” by Little Texas and “Talk Dirty to Me” by Poison, finally play on the jukebox. They are not about her. They are just about wanting to hear something that rocks.

It is all about the dark days in Chicago when the sun rises late and sets early.

And how you have managed to negotiate away the past.