Night Noises

by Richard Yates

out of the "separation anxiety" phase by the time they turned five or six Mine seems to get worse

  the older I get)

  Scream, squeal

  some kind of dog noise from below

  Or human noise

  Can't tell

  I sleep with intentional noise

  in my room at night

  the t.v. or a stereo on

  because sounds that I can't easily identify become sinister

  I invent horror stories

  out of every bonk

  or creak

  or click-clack

  My head is a swirl of horror (The reason I never did acid: Didn't want to let what's in there out!)

  As a youth

  afraid of the dark

  I would replay Flintstones episodes in my head

  until I fell to sleep

  I never really liked the Flintstones but I'd watched them enough

  that I'd internalized the plots

  (only three channels on the t.v. back then)

  Once asleep, however

  I was at my brain's mercy It had very little

  Now, older, I still have to distract myself at night

  to keep from hearing noises

  Keep my head in some happy narrative instead of letting it write its own plots its own mysteries

  I still have nightmares far too often What does it mean?

  I try to be a happy guy try to have a good time but something in there something in my head is pushing its way out

  Or, all the horror of the world that I try to ignore

  try to block out

  seeps in

  whether I want it to or not

  Maybe that's what all the horror in my head really is:

  The World

  3. Next day

  Sitting by the door to the Scott Joplin room Don't think the book store I want to hit opens for another hour

  Meanwhile, Mariah is off

  to another class

  We're supposed to meet back here at noon

  Now I've got an hour to kill before I can shop KILL KILL KILL!!! SHOP SHOP SHOP!!!

  Again I'm imagining

  all the terrible things

  that could happen to our kids while we're gone

  I never sleep very well

  in hotel rooms

  People in the halls

  making loud noises always startle me

  out of my too-light sleep SLEEP SLEEP SLEEP!!!

  Carpet patterns creep me out

  They seem to be sending me messages that I don't quite understand

  How long should I sit here

  (by the Scott Joplin room) before I get up and go? GO GO GO!!!

  I hate fashion

  (probably because I'm too poor to participate)

  CLONES CLONES CLONES!!!

  I hate seeing people

  who look like people I know It's weird

  I remember being really stoned one time and going to a dance club

  the Up-Front in Portland

  and thinking I saw a friend of mine I called out to the guy

  but it turned out to be not-him (CLONE)

  About ten minutes later

  I saw the same guy

  but I was stoned, remember and yelled out again

  The third time I saw the guy he didn't look very happy to see me I don't think I said anything to him that time

  but I had to restrain myself

  Moral: I shouldn't get stoned and go dancing

  It's kind of a personal moral I guess

  I wonder if it's going to be raining while I'm walking around from shop to shop

  The sky looks grey

  from where I'm sitting (Scott Joplin room

  just outside it)

  SIT SIT SIT!!!

  People walking the halls

  Are classes over?

  Or is it just a mass bathroom break?

  Noise from people milling about

  just around the corner

  from where I'm sitting

  (Scott Joplin room)

  Wonder how hard it would be to find a soda pop (Joplin)

  Don't know why

  but yesterday and today

  I've had this superiority complex thing going on

  where I think most people

  are shallow and unintelligent

  Watching t.v. last night made it worse Watching people walk back and forth while I sit here writing

  (S. J. r)

  and hearing bits of their conversations and seeing their mannerisms

  and movements

  ain't helping

  Mariah agreed to leave the "event" last night up on the 12th floor

  because she was afraid

  I was going to get into a fight

  I suppose she knew what she was doing

  Must be about 10:00 am by now Time to shop

  Consume

  (SCOTT JOPLIN!)

  4.

  Epilogue:

  I found Howl About this dude: Richard F. Yates is a poet, author, and artist living in southwestern Washington State in the U.S.A. He is married, has two daughters, and works at Washington State University in Vancouver, Washington. His written work has appeared in such places as: Mad Swirl, The Salmon Creek Journal, Words-Myth, Yankee Pot Roast, Counterexample Poetics, The Salal Review, Word Riot, and Vision? Nary! Magazine. He was a featured presenter and workshop instructor at the Raymond Carver Writing Festival in 2008 and 2009, poetry editor for The Salmon Creek Journal, and is one of the founding editors of Breadline Press.