Rime Of the Ancient Mariner

by Jeff Baker

Johnson “Dobby” Dobbins III half-walked, half-staggered into the second floor apartment he shared with his partners, tossed his overnight bag on the sofa and considered calling out “Honey, I’m home,” except that it was eleven-thirty. He looked around the apartment and grinned broadly. Two and a half weeks and it hadn’t changed. Pillows still stacked on one chair, magazines on the coffee table and the fridge in the kitchen plastered with mementos and pictures of the extended lives and families of the three guys who had decided to become a family themselves.

Even the empty bag of cereal held by a refrigerator magnet to the door because Rich or Todd thought it worked better than writing a note that they’d forget to take to the store, so in the end one of them would zap a picture of it with his phone and that would be the shopping list.

“Hey, I thought it was you.” That was Rich, short with stringy brown hair, wandering into the living room wearing just a pair of basketball shorts with a team logo.

“Yeah, me.” Dobby said. “The Ancient Mariner returns.”

“You don’t look like the Ancient Mariner,” Rich said after they kissed. “No beard.”

“Shaved this morning,” Dobby said. “I would’ve been back a day earlier but I had to slow down for ice.”

“ICE?” Rich asked.

“The frozen water kind.” Dobby said.

“Oh.” Rich said. “Todd’s already in bed crashed-out.”

“I don’t blame him.” Dobby said. “I had myself a few adventures out there this time. Not the least of which was I got turned around on the road because one of the signs had been knocked down and I missed a turnoff.”

“Uh-Oh,” Rich said.

“Yeah. I didn’t realize until about an hour later when the clouds lifted and I saw the sun rising on the right, meaning I was headed the wrong way.”

“Not good.”

“I turned back but I had to wait around at my last stop and by then I had to take a break. Then I headed here. At last.” Dobby said.

“Want something to eat?” Rich asked.

“Naaah.” Dobby said. “Grabbed a snack on the way. Besides we’re out of cereal.”

Rich laughed. Dobby put his arm around Rich’s shoulder and they headed towards the bedroom. Dobby began to recite:

“The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide

And I am next of kin

But after that long drive I’ve had

I’m just sleeping in.”

In the dark apartment the three men somehow had the same dream: They were on an old sailing ship, clear skies, pleasant sailing and even the Albatross pointed their way towards a green and flowered shore.

—end—