We are all the last piece of coal thrown on the eternal fire.
A complete visage, one face, all of us apart, and of the whole, millions upon millions, and we are wild each day, the grass from the soil, the soil from the ash, and born again, compost, regeneration, growth.
Total is our darkness and our light. The twilight through which we pass, hand to hand, is the juncture of who we are and who we will be, as one, composed, arithmetic, until we dissolve and meet anew, you, me, everyone.
But you must believe in something magnificent to surrender to that. Perhaps magic, perhaps God, maybe yourself, foolishly alone? Do you believe in any of those things?
The cashier stares at me, eyes orbiting my face, moons bequeathed to Jupiter. He is focused on the revolver in my hand, and rightly so. I need cash for a debt I can never pay. I am suffering in a healthy body, my brain broken, seeking remedies, leaking questions, a respite needed—if just to study the chalkboard in my head, and I love the sound of chalk scraping against echoing black stone.
Are you going to answer me?
“My answer will delight and dismay you.”
Do you believe in anything?
About that time, the cops rolled in. They had to notice me, my spine a question mark, my firearm an exclamation point, and the stoic clerk bathed in harsh light and plexiglass, a shadow, translucent. The orange and hopeful lotto tickets preened coquettishly for the next sucker. No doubt, a do-gooder with a cell phone muscled up the courage to dial 911 as they cruised in to fill up and grab a Red Bull—everyone wants wings, and I am, grounded.
“I believe the beginning of wisdom is to get wisdom. Though it will cost all you have. Get understanding. Cherish her, and she will exalt you; embrace her, and she will honor you. She will give you a garland to grace your head and present you with a glorious crown.” The clerk’s name is Dale, and his orange vest says Grab ‘N Go Gas. Dale would be that reflecting relation if Rod Stewart had a much less successful brother, though I have also underestimated him. He cannot raise a beard, and his wiry frame, crater-pocked face, and shaggy blonde hair distracts me for a moment, but his words rock me and pummel my forehead.
Ah, a Godly man. Dale, you may be on to something. But my pockets are empty, and I abhor my face. That is why I am here, to gather and go and start again.
“Seek one—not many or all, and you will be rich, a sultan and a swan.”
Then his record skips. “Thou, not I. Thou, not I. Thou, not I.”
I am in flux and conjure an easier way, a shortcut.
Scratch me one of those Powerball tickets. Today's my lucky day.
Dale scratches the ticket with the unnaturally long nail on his right thumb. I notice the neatly stacked tins of Copenhagen, the acres of machined and manicured sugary treats, and glistening hot dogs rolling and roasting on tiny, greasy cylinders. The walls of this bunker of unnecessary necessities begin to close in. There is nary a cent in the leave-one-take-one penny cup.
“You didn’t win. But tomorrow is inevitable.”
Figures. Does anyone win?
“Rarely here. But we have many stores and travelers like you that pass through. Most lose because they are not ready to win. They all look the same to me as you do now. I try not to judge.
So, why sell to them if most will lose? Are you not a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a con man hocking trinkets and false hope.
“Before submission comes faith, and it will cost all of you. That man sleeping on cardboard near the pumps is rich beyond your wildest dreams. The last woman I served drove a Tesla and dripped diamonds, and she is destitute. I have answered your question. You appear to be out of time, but tomorrow is inevitable.”
Thou, not I?
“Repeat it in your lowest moments.”
I place the gun on the counter and raise my hands, and the police barge in, a canopy of blue. I am thrown to the floor, handcuffed, driven to jail, fingerprinted, stripped, searched, re-clothed, and locked away.
In my cell, I am a free man in the fleeting light.
And all the other faces of the world are captive in the intruding darkness.
Altogether we will soon be on the other side of twilight.
And then it will be not so.