9/7/10

MEETING MERLE
by Ramon Collins


When Mike entered Smitty's Back 40 Lounge he was greeted by the familiar aroma of secondhand smoke and Lysol. He stopped, squinted against the murk and rubbed his eyes -- Jolene perched on a stool at the end of the bar. Mike straddled a stool halfway down.

Jolene shot a sidelong glance. “How ya been?”

“Gets kinda lonely. Grubby motel room, TV movies and peanut butter sandwiches.”

She snubbed out a cigarette. “If I remember correct, you're the one that said you wanted to split the sheet -- it's damn well split.”

"I was half-hammered." He fidgeted on the bar stool. “Dammit, a man can change. If he gets a chance, that is.”

“I felt lucky when you changed your shorts.” Jolene smirked at his image in the back mirror.

Smitty came around the bar, b-e-l-c-hed, punched some buttons on the jukebox and Merle Haggard sang about love for his mother. Mike slid one stool closer to her and his brow furrowed as he studied a cracked tile on the floor.

“Tell me, Jo -- do I ever cross your mind?”

“For chrissake, you've only been gone three nights.”


- - -
Collins has had stories published and online. He lives on the NE edge of the Mojave Desert and is often seen howlin' at the moon with a pack of scruffy coyotes.