Whitechurch by Chris Lynch

Author:Chris Lynch [Lynch, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-0459-5
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2013-02-19T17:13:00+00:00

Watch

I SIT AT THE WINDOW watching the wind blow.

Rather, watching the evidence

of the wind blowing at forty miles per hour.

The mushroom cap of an exhaust unit

on the roof of the bakery

across the street,

spinning like a whirligig,

the trees that grow in a line behind

the main shops of the town,

dipping down below the roof lines, springing back up,

ducking again,

fighting for position

against the wicked wind we get around here.

Watching from my room, facing the street, set on the second floor

over the empty shop where up until one month

ago

they sold fifty different blends of coffee

but now they’re gone

because Whitechurch

only ever wanted

one.

And I watch,

across the street and three doors left,

as the big plate glass window of the

Laundromat

bows, twists, distorts,

tries to pop itself

out of its frame

onto the street.

But I’m not watching that,

even if it is entertaining.

I’m watching the Red-Headed Stranger,

who is doing his laundry

because it is Wednesday evening,

and as Whitechurch knows

he does his laundry on

Wednesdays.

Tell the truth though, I’m not even watching

that.

Of course I’m watching it, that is,

the same way I’m watching

the whirligig

and the trees

and the window.

Satellite visions they are,

pulling my eye closer

to the source.

The Red-Headed Stranger struggling

to light a cigarette

with his rain-slicker hood

pulled tight around his face

and his hands cupped against the wind

is close to the center,

but not it.

It is Lilly.

Lilly watching the Stranger.

I am watching Lilly

watching the Stranger.

And then, there is Pauly.

Pauly watching Lilly

watching the Stranger

light a cigarette

in the light of the ’mat.

I’m watching that.

I am the only one watching that.

Because none of the other players

even knows yet

that Pauly is there,

skulking

in the doorway of Chuck’s International Auto

Parts,

watching Lilly

watching the RHS.

Pauly named him that.

After the guy had been in town

a few days

and been the subject

of a few thousand

conversations.

Came out of nowhere

our own red menace,

remains nowhere

even as we

watch.

The only redhead in town,

Lilly observes.

And isn’t that queer,

we don’t have one

of our own

and we never

noticed before.

We do now.

We notice.

Which is why Lilly is there,

inside the Laundromat

looking out at RHS,

and Pauly is outside

looking at her,

with the rain coming down sideways

in the wind,

a little hail mixed in,

bouncing right off Pauly’s unmoving face

in the doorway of Chuck’s International Auto

Parts

across the street

one flight down

and three doors over

from my window.

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