Saturday, July 15, 2006

Tyler Standjord


We took a walk to his old high school. I don’t know what we were doing. I don’t know if it was for old time’s sake or because there was something left—some unsaid word or phrase needed for closure. It was more than the two blocks we’d thought it to be. He said they were putting a new surface on the field. I didn’t care much but it was nice to talk with him a while. He is crazy. We both walked back towards my car, talking about The Mars Volta and last night’s White Stripes concert. I hadn’t gone. He said the woman in front of him flashed Jack and Jack was so high he just stopped playing. We crossed the street where two hours earlier there were cars, people, a freckle contest. We’d both cheered the winner. We crossed the tracks where logging trains used to run. Now all they hold are rusted hulks waiting for restoration money. I said my car was to the right, an’ he followed me. The house across the street was his old friend from high school’s. I said I should get home and keep packing. He said he’d call up a friend to hang out. He wasn’t quite done yet. He wanted to make the drive all the way out there worth it. I got into my car. He walked across the street. I saw him dial his cell phone as he stood on the front porch. I drove away.

3 comments:

Radish King said...

I miss Tyler. He got so excited when I taught Jared's class. He was excited. And at the read the day or so after Hunter Thompson killed himself, I gave Tyler my copy of Tarantella (I think, I may be imagining this, but I know I gave it to someone. P and I had a little bit to drink that day, before the reading and I always end up giving my books away.) But he looked so happy and he read his poem and I thought, mmm, that boy is wild but raw wild, animal wild. It is in his face.

I wish he had come to my workshop at least once. I miss him. I miss you, too.

Radish King said...

p.s. Chéri, there is no such thing as closure. Everything in nature is a circle, a spiral. There is no end to anything.

love,
Rebecca

Anonymous the Younger said...

Yes I remember it. I do. He said he would love to buy your book but had no money, then you reached in your purse and handed him yours. That is one thing I have always remembered about you. I miss you too. These are both older pieces. I should post something new soon. Maybe I will post a stanza of the namesake of this blog. Maybe.

-Norm