Gary Wolnez - (Slam Poem/Story)

Gary Wolnez was one of those guys that was always around but never quite there.  He was in but not quite inside. He played football but he didn’t start. He was kinda handsome but his hair stood on end like antennae that brought in the thoughts of us all.  

Gary Wolnez, he had dark eyes.  Eyes that looked like owl’s eyes; eyes that see in the dark, soft pools that, if you were to throw a rock in one, it wouldn’t have gone “splat” but rather, “ker-plunk”; eyes that might have been drawn by Mensa artists. Eyes that seemed to have just one too many layers. Just one too many layers.

People with eyes like that don’t stay here long. It's too much information. Everyone talks at once. They see in all dimensions, see the Reasons. They see your words turned on end. They can feel your smiles from inside your teeth, and he knows what you mean. Their skin reaches into anyone with whom they are speaking, probing their motives, mining their meaning, feeling the tingle of everyone’s skin. You didn't notice the probing because of the eyes.

Feeling it all is hard work. Doors are ultimately no good to people like Gary. They disregard them. The protection they offer is unavailable, unknowable, really, to someone like him. So Gary Wolnez could never sleep. His radio was tuned to all stations simultaneously. There was no "off" button. The sheep he counted never shut up. They just smiled back at him with his own eyes and kept talking. Gary would walk down the school hall, feeling it all. The sparks from our teenaged forest fires were always in his eyes, blinding him. Ultimately we were responsible for destroying his night vision. He could no longer see in the dark even when the sparks went cold. All the world was 100 fathoms deep. Dark glasses were too late coming.  

The last time I saw Gary he was wearing black. I worked in a grocery store. He watched me from the second floor. He looked like an ink spot. Sun photo negative. Melted Crayola on beat black construction paper. Spark blind now, Gary wasn’t smiling, looked like he hadn't slept since fire. Wait right there, Gary, and I’ll be right up. When I looked back, he was gone.  He’s still gone. He still watches me from above. He still has the same eyes. The sparks are gone. He lives in the dark.