GENE carried on
as he does so well
after an afternoon
of training the men who will sell saddles
to the shops across the river
GENE found himself wandering the workshop
the workshop was a place he could always go
once the laborers left
to feel at complete peace
with his thoughts
his ambitions
his effects
the smell of tanned leather
the familiar spread of dust and scrap
across the chipped flooring
it was his quiet place
all men have such a retreat
but today
GENE felt something different
the dusty air felt humid upon each inhale
there was a weight to the air
an ominous pressure the tree feels before it falls
a moment of vitality
and impermanence
GENE loved
and loathed
this feeling
he loved security
and variety
equally
but the two were coexisting
right now
he filed through his mind
memory by memory
as the feeling was so familiar
but so fleeting
and he recalled
the very old man
and the word
this was the heaviness he felt
while in the presence of the very old man
GENE wondered
of the age of the old man
should he be inside the workshop
but the heaviness was also different
it tasted bitter
the taste you have in your mouth
while recalling an appalling aroma
this heaviness was different
GENE silenced each step with the heel of his boot
and made his way to the side exit
it was a time to fight
or flee
but the opportunity would not be had
the sliding door to which employees enter the workshop
was thrown open
a show of force
appearing atop the threshold
was a young man
with a thin face
and thick greased hair
his build was no different than that of GENE
but he used his strength differently
as displayed by his walk
his slow prideful walk
toward GENE
uninterrupted by the tools and debris across the ground
he paused several paces short of GENE
and smiled
the smile a man from a big family
in a big city
with a big life
would show to a man he felt was lesser
"i am taking what i deserve today".
the young man took another step toward GENE
"and what is it that you deserve"?
asked GENE
composed
but unsettled
his effort to mask this internal turmoil was spending his strength
the bitter heavy air around this young man
was enough to drain GENE of his breath
but he carried on
as he does
a word fight
is better than a fight of any other kind
and words
are what GENE knows best
"your workshop and your products,
they are rightfully mine".
the young man was out of his usual parameters
he was waving the scythe
but the corn continued to stand
GENE could detect this
he could taste the sweetness of his victory
but knew it would not be without pain
of some sort
he could taste that
as well
"my men are waiting at the hotel,
they will be here within the hour,
to give me time to do what i need to".
stated the young man
GENE heard the words of a young man
not much younger than himself
who loved the thrill of a fight
but hated soreness of the punch
a young man who was empty inside
and needed the euphoria uncertainty brings
yes
thought GENE
certainty is what the young man will now receive
and with such certainty
he will pull the sails
a sudden reaction
to steer the ship into vague waters
"i don't wish to fight with you,
or your men,
i need only leave freely with my documents,
you may have my workshop,
and employ all the men who work for me,
in return,
i wish to leave this workshop in peace".
negotiated GENE
with a slight hunch to his posture
GENE knew the intruder
had not thought through
a single moment of this altercation
beyond the pursuit
the cat tires of the mouse
when the mouse is under his paw
so he can either release the mouse
and hope it runs
or bat at the mouse with his paw
to provoke the intended reaction
GENE knew his only chance at maintaining his stature
and profession
was to convince
the intruder
that he need not exercise his bravado
or claim what he feels is his
the intruder pointed his chin upward
to look down on his victim
over the crook of his narrow nose
he wasn't feeling the rush of the pursuit any longer
his men would arrive disappointed
he would leave with what his father wanted
but not what he wanted
he wanted the euphoria attached to
the risk of losing the mouse
the intruder smiled the smile again
such a smile made GENE feel pale
but also clever
because of what the smile was represented by
in the intruder's mind
"now, listen to me,
i have an offer for you,
because you are so fight less,
and i want to see you sweat".
said the intruder
speaking with more force
as his words progressed
the intruder
although he wished to make GENE sweat
began himself to sweat
an awful sweat, it was
a sweat that accompanied a flushed face
no different than a crazed man
who just put down the value of his farm
on the card table
over a game of chance
yes
the intruder was reveling in his own mind
"if you guess correctly my name,
i will walk from your workshop,
and leave you to your business,
but if you fail,
my men will chase you from this building,
to the river,
straight to the river"!
shouted the intruder
letting escape labored breaths between each sentence
GENE felt a moment of panic
beginning to develop in his stomach
the young man before him was an addict
an unstable pursuer of the intangible
the reaction
was worth more
to him
than
the
reward
GENE stood calm for a moment
but the intruder caught his initial fright
and let loose a partial laugh
equal in size to the fear he sought
GENE
the boy
the man
was empty of thought
his face twitching
he shouted the first word that came to mind
the only word that came to mind
the very small word the old man gave to him
all those years ago
he shouted it again
and again
and once more
louder each time
his face now pink
but the intruder
instead of reacting in an affirming manner
or condemning manner
stood silently
for an uncomfortable moment
until
then
the ends of his mouth began to spread apart
in a smile
but a different smile
a natural smile
the way a child smiles on Christmas morning
a deep smile you cannot hide
when you feel an equally deep joy
but just as his smile began to show
his eyes widened
and his face contorted
to a wrinkled
sad
boy
and he weeped with much the same effort
tear after tear
bellowing
GENE realized
while the young man stood alone
weeping
the meaning of the word
the very small
unnatural word
that sounded like no other word
and did not fit in the company of any other word
this word was the most powerful word
to GENE
just as the old man said
because this word
would define the remainder of his life
the intruder
whom GENE now knew his name
continued to cry
kneeling now
where he stood
"how did you know my name,
the word i cherish more than anything,
the only artifact of my youth,
how did you know it,
how did you know it,
when men twice your age,
call me by my father's name"?
begged the intruder
his face nearly a shade of violet
this word
this name
was a relic from a troubled young man's childhood
a beloved gift
from someone
the last piece of mind
he could hold
and call his own
this word represented to him the inner fire that reduced itself
to embers
but now
as he wept
the embers grew warmer
an uncertain moment
though undesired to such a depth
provoked by vulnerability
repeating and repeating
catharsis
GENE stood still
and carried on
as he does
observing the weeping man
and the emotions he was projecting
but the air changed
the bitter taste was fading
the charge to the air
was prompting memories of the very old man
yes
this feeling
was no different now
than what was felt in the company of the old man
yes
GENE
the boy
the man
the collector of words
carried a word
a very small word
in his very big mind
for a very long time
for a very old man
GENE knelt beside the weeping intruder
turned his head rather slightly
and began forming a response in his mind's eye
a young man who established
to overtake another young man's efforts
for reasons unknown
foolhardy in attempt
now emptied of his emotions on the dusty ground
insignificant and vulnerable
beside the young man
of which he felt superior to
over a small word of some vast importance
to both parties
a small word that was obviously planned
to live out such a fate
but what to say
"i knew your name because i've been carrying it,
all my life,
since my youth,
it was given to me by a very old man,
in a most unusual manner,
and i have had no opportunity,
to understand such a name,
until this day".
GENE stated
quite emotionless
but not unsympathetic
as if recalling a precursor to a shared memory
GENE wondered who the old man could be
a relation
of sorts
he hypothesized
to be in the presence of both men
would feel entirely similar
a relation
who this intruder shared with a bond
in an otherwise calcified family
and it was such a family
thought GENE
that caused the intruder
to become
what broke into the workshop today
and it was such a relation
thought GENE
that caused the intruder
to still carry inside an ember
of what was once a roaring fire
and it was a relation
thought GENE
that knew the only way to rekindle a flame
that would one day weaken to a near nothing
was to wait
a
very
long
time
until the flame inevitably is reduced to embers
and reignite it
in only a way such a relation could
long after his demise
"may i ask what your name is"?
inquired the intruder
wiping his tears away
with his soiled hands
GENE
"i am a man called GENE,
my name being signed,
as the head of a crane,
looking downward toward the ground that supports him,
triangulated by the neck of another crane,
facing the west,
i was named by my father's father,
with the approval of my mother's mother,
i live in a small house,
with a small family,
in a small town,
in a small county,
of a small state,
in a large country,
and i oversee the production of horse riding tack,
as you now well know".
the intruder
still hysterical
but fighting for composure
looked to GENE
the man
and said a peculiar thing
before walking off
in the direction in which he came
and never returned from
he said to GENE this
"our names are different,
but signed the same,
only the perception of our signatures,
must be inverted laterally,
at the same time,
then one of the cranes who looks west,
must choose to look east,
moving with him,
the crane who honors the ground of which supports him".
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