Walking outside the health food store, i step inside the automatic doors and a voice yells in my direction, not at me, but at the person in front of me, a thirty-soemthing guy with blond dreads down to his back and sunglasses on, sunglasses on at 8:30 pm. Sunglasses continues to walk inside the store, but I stop in confusion and turn in the middle of the entrance way to see who it was. A scruffy, rejected man I recognize is sitting there with someone else I didn't. The man I recognize is like a statue, big, towering, a Native American, I see him on Pearl Street; sad face, strong body, an alchohilic as much as I can tell. He directs his gaze from Sunglasses, whose trying to make him invisible, with a distant recognition just enough to think that he knows me, that he's seen me before and I've been friendly.
"Hey", he says in a low tone from his deep throat, "Hey it's you! It's my birthday! I'm 49!"
I remember seeing this same soul in the same strip mall area, a week or so before. He probably yelled the exact same thing to me and appeared just as drunk to me as he does know. The time before, he told me about his family, how he's a US Marshal. He showed me his wallet for proof. All his children are in the military, how he's chief of a tribe near where the four corners of the states meet.
"Hey", he murmered loudly again, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, I'm, I'm", I have to come out clean and say I forgot what his name was, my mind, somewhat sharp earlier on, was now somewhat untuned, but after the 'Hey, heys', he goes, ".... but some people call me Coyote." (smile)
So goes Coyote.
His accompiant then yells, "No Shit?!, it's your birthday, mine's on the 22nd, put it there, brother." They give each other a stern handshake and look at me. I try to lay my dry witty humor and point out that my birthday is in April, October being about as far as April as months get. "Ah, an Aries", the hobo shaman states.
"Yes, the 19th, the last day of Aries."
"I know I have, have," studdering, "I feeling of that, you know, I'm, I'm", touches his heart, then his forward, then using his same hands to gesture to me, "spiritual like that."
His partner sort of nods and smiles a goofy smile. He's dressed as one who would venture to a health store often and who sits down with wise men in strip mall parking lots. His clothes are all of natural colors, autumn hues, hiking boots, wild, but, just mannered enough hair, some sort of fall vest or sweater or light coat. Everything looks new and together.
I'm wearing an ex girlfriend's zipped up hoody (black), an Extra large t-shirt with the old school Apple logo on, some Doc Martin pants, and skate shoes. My hair is a very very faded blue-black, more of a blue grey or green grey, depending on if you're looking at my roots or my ends; in the back or the front. Somewhat like very old cotton candy, left over from a carnival and awaiting to be devoured by a loose band of dogs or a family of ants. My fingernails have chipped and worn black nail polish on them as I'm transforming myself into a rock star for the time being.
Autumn Colors wrestles with opening a container of ice cream he bought at the store and pours a tanish/brown powder he chopped up from something I missed with a plastic knife.
"Got to get my vitamins, you know, you need your vitamins."
He must have bought natural vitamins to go with his natural ice cream with the plan all along to combine the two for dinner.
"Hey, hey", Coyote slurrs, "How bout you, how bout you, how-", (pause), "After you get out of the store, you, you...", his eyes are gazing again at the door that Sunglasses was at, where I was heading, somewhat in a rush, his finger is now pointing at it, then to his heart, then touching my shoulder, "How 'bout after you get out you help me with... whatever you can."
I knew Coyote from before and I knew he was kind and I definetly knew I'd see him again. I have a faint rememberance of seeing him at the old, metal and blue skatepark. So I agreed.
"My names Barret" Autumn spoke up, completely out of place, then he spelled it out: "B-A-R-R-E-T"
I shook his hand and told them both my name was alex and Coyote decided he'd call me 'J' from now on, since that's what I was probably called everywhere anyways, I agreed but thought that that wasn't really true, that everyone really did call me alex, except my sister who seems the trip over Chri-, then Jaso- until hitting the target at 'alex'.
"I'll be right out, see you in a bit," and I was in. I went into the store to buy a muffin to eat while I drank some late night coffee and read. I had a muffin from this same store the previous day, with Mark and thought another muffin or two would make a fine dinner, perhaps as good as ice cream and powdered vitamins. I had a French pastry from the store next to the one I'm in now this morning before saying goodbye to Mark who was flying back to Indiana and a Veggie Hot Dog on Pearl Street at around 2pm. I was hungry.
They didn't have the Jumbo muffin I was after, the one with all sorts of seads and rasins and walnuts and was more like trail mix and flour then a muffin, so I opted for two, smaller ones. I stumbled for a bag, twirled around and almost hit a very attractive store employee. I wasn't frightened, but I felt a bit, high or drunk or out of place. I haven't been the same after my last long term relationship ended and wasn't quite in the mood to give it another chance at this moment, being unshowered and holding two muffins in a bag. But I gave the girl, who was about my age, a huge smile - so large as to make myself nervous and a walked straight to the checkout line.
I fumbled through my wallet to make sure I had enough money for the muffins, for coffee later and give something of worth to Coyote. I digged through my wallet and found a single, gold coin. I flipped it over and examined it carefully. I couldn't place where I had gotten this coin. Usually you receive these as change when buying stamps or for the light rail in Denver, but neither one of things have I done in months. The color was this very dirty gold, the face had a Indian or a women, depending on how I thought about it. It fascinated me. I was mesmerized.
I put the coin back into my wallet, paid for my muffins and kept my change in my left hand to give to my new/old friend and fastitiously made my way out towards the exit and the coffee shop. I had been working ten hours on a Sunday to keep bills at bay and looking at a small, blury screen filled with bright windows and widgets tires my eyes and patience.
I walked towards the benches outside the store to find the two that were there just a few moments ago, but they were gone. Completely gone. I found the top of Autumn's ice cream container and that's it. I looked around in a circle, as if someone was speaking my name from a distance, in concentration and felt absolutely puzzled. I had the craziest idea that maybe I had been looking at that coin in the market for longer than I thought, hours at least, flipping it in my hand, feeling the bumps of the low relief portrait, cleaning off the grime, admiring the details, the colors, the novelty of it, like a small child and a rattle, just studying this coin, this pretty, mysterious coin that was in my wallet.
I couldn't tell what time it was from my surroundings, the fall night makes the world dark early and this shopping center has fast food restaurants open till 3 am. I slowly made my way to the coffee shop on the other end of the plaza and tried to piece together how I was feeling. Mark had found me asleep, but with eyes open one morning. I remembered the feeling of being asleep but still aware of where I was and what was going around me and how I was asleep in one instant and awake in another. Just this afternoon my coworker pointed out how well rested I seem to look I almost didn't believe him and felt just beat and worn, even on a Sunday. I didn't think of Coyote Chief or how he slowly touched me on my shoulder or his birthday or his money I was going to give him.
All I felt was this sensation of being above myself and looking down at the parking lot and just myself standing still and stoical, facing towards the coffee shop that may, or may not be, open.
alex Simoni Monday, October 8th, 2001, 12:54 am
[epilogue?]
I looked in my wallet and pockets after typing this out from my notes later that night and couldn't find any gold coin.
