by Todd Clouser
We are in a small hotel in the southern Baja
A city called Constitution
It's all the romance you imagine
Cold night wind, men huddled in front of televisions
At sand bars
Gripping at their sweaters
I was here six years ago
The circumstances were different
The person I'd fallen in love with
And moved to Mexico to be with, this was all a secret at the time
Was from here, this little town
We'd been living together in Los Cabos for a few months
I wanted to drive
We had just been to the store and he bought a necklace and a couple new t shirts with some work I got him taking care of a friend's apartment
His name he had originally told me, the first time we met, because I could not pronounce his real one, was Elijah
He had written the other on a napkin
That took place at a bar, soft lights
But we had arrived together to this town to visit, a couple blocks from the town square
Where I had once picked him up with my dog, arriving from
Minnesota by car
And I always knew he was hiding things
Not for malice, but for shame
And I got a hotel room for us to rest in
I wanted to meet his family, he said he would love that
I had spoken to them on the phone
When the hour came, he went walking alone
I could not go
I did not inquire
I knew
I couldn't have cared less if it was a tent or an estate
What's the difference anyhow, really
In some years people will see that about us
How misguided we were, this want world
But Elijah had watched TV
And had seen the big dreams and false smiles
And he was ashamed
That is tragic
So he wore his new necklace, a cross, and a sweater
And went on down the road
I watched out the hotel window, small hotel, two lane streets, gas stations and small markets
It was ok
We lived together for 2 years or so
It was beautiful but impossible
Manic in every way
I was a heavy drinker at the time and his shame often turned resentment
It ended, didn't dissipate, really ended, no hate, but gone
I was the first person he had lived with, maybe not fell for, but loved in the way partners can
The same was true for me
He went on to live for and with many others
Older men would come and offer to take him away to San Francisco, he liked this
That sounded like Hong Kong with Disney rides and heroin that never hurts sounds to me
He moved to Puerto Vallarta, and was desperate and alone
He was desperate and alone with me as well, looking back
I could not fix that, he was cut and still bleeding, not scarred
That's what I do, think I can control and fix, and lose
But Elijah was type of person we all know has a heart, is tender, impossible not to, impossible to, love
I am here in this little hotel room
And so much has happened since then
The trip we took to Prague together
The photos of his family when a middle-aged man from California sent me an email with the news 8 months ago
He had this photo of himself framed, at about 9 years old, in a school uniform, smiling
He loved to look at it, and sometimes cried
I was in Prague again
With the band
On a day off
And Elijah died
of AIDS
Syphillis, a stroke, and then AIDS
I cried and emailed my father
And went to the hospital to get my blood taken again
I was fine
He wanted to be loved but didn't know what that meant
Or how to allow it to happen
And that's all I can know about that
I travel through this little city
He grew up in
With a cinder block unfinished bedroom
And a pale of clean water for the week
Maybe I should have left him here
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Todd Clouser, a regular contributor to this blog, is a jazz-rock musician name one of the top 100 musicians worldwide in all genres "on the verge" of making a big contribution. His latest album is The Naked Beat (Royal Potato Family).
