It was an old habit

                                a really old habit formed by necessity  the lackluster Mother of Invention

who is never to be doubted

She is sainted

he perfected it as a youth

a paperboy

by his keen addiction to paperbacks he couldnt read in his house

 

his parents wouldnt accept pulp fiction

wouldnt accept it might be redeeming

he allowed their covers were lurid or sexually provocative

but any mook could see that was simple Marketing

grotesque space invaders

the voluptuous denizens or seductive heroines and heroes

they didnt begin expose or capture the essence contained inside the book 

the writers honed speculative imaginings

who had arrived light years ahead of hard science  that slowly  by his estimate

patronised the Countrys pocketbook holders

he argued these scifi writers were garish mileposts staked along the highway for any scientist worth his salt to see

and for those mad impetuous books

he perfected walking and reading at the same time

for the helluvit he complicated matters  chewed wads of Bazooka Joe  distorting his cheeks and blowing bubbles bigger than his head

retaliating against an old knock  maybe an Old Wives Tale

                                                                                               some people couldnt chew gum and walk at the same time

 

Then  there he was   walking decades later

confronting a long walk which many found intimidating and rather  popped into their cars to save time shoe leather legs  and conspicuous sweat

The hell with that  going out the door he grabbed a book and made his time count

a habit

habitchualised

whenever he imagined there might possibly be down time during any of the processes he had to contend with

waiting in lines

waiting on slower-than-snail doctor appointments

he had a book in hand

He waited without waiting

thatd be his Native American Indian name if an Indian wished to affix one to him

he had a bill to pay

there was a local outlet

so rather than stick a stamp on it and post it

hed walk it over

walking

head down

reading

                                           

reading crossing intersections

reading beside busy squealing thoroughfares

physically he walked

but mentally he was long gone

utterly engrossed with where the book took him

walking through a business district he was whipped in the face by a low hanging American flag

frayed  jutting out from beneath the cheap aluminum eaves on a yardarm affixed to a brick-and-plateglass front

Somebodys used Harley dealership

Are you fucking kidding me he thought  Its tatters  Wheres the respect

after working his way around several bikes leaning heavily on their kickstands(it was fortunate the yard was concrete  if it were blacktopped the bikes would have keeled over as they gouged their way to the earth under its fabricated scab) he went inside the peeling linoleum floor showroom 

inside a guy in jackboots patently ignored him 

this was usually the time he wished he had tits

tits like the woman he sidestepped a half block down who was oblivious to him as she exited a coffee shop

a cold drink in hand

in the other a cellphone she was busily jawing into

he was aware of her a block prior as he momentarily checked down up the street for anything that might trip him as he read

an uneven sidewalk  like surf on the sea

sandwich boards placed on the sidewalk hawking wares inside adjacent businesses

ill-placed for pedestrians

but disregarded

                          because who the hell walked anywhere any longer

she was immodestly attired

immodest by his standards

those standards now foregone

prudish

her black bra straps showing across her shoulders outside the small pink athletic t-shirt she wore 

not that she was athletic

more likely to expose her ample bosom and reveal the many coloured tats that crowded her chest and back

embraced her biceps 

he was more observant than most

he sidestepped her yakking oblivion

still reading

and all she had for him was a glare for nearly invading her space

or not regarding her more thoroughly                                                                                                    

                                                             because she was a real heartbreaker   a prize

though nothing to regard  he assessed

a block away

Except 

            if he had her tits

if he had her tits Jackboots would have paid him immediate attention

instead

             he finally had to arrest his attention by remarking out loud

in his general vicinity

that the flag in front of his business was raggedy ass and ought to be retired                                                                                                                     

maybe he didnt like his tone

Jackboots unleashed a broadside  Mind your own damn business

Alright  Thank you  I will

Outside  on the concrete  he unscrewed the gas tank cap from a bike

fed his handkerchief into the tank

withdrew the soaked cloth

squeezed the flags frayed and serrated edge between it

laid the handkerchief over the flags grommeted canvas spine

and lit the gas-wetted parts with Strike-Anywhere matches he always carried with him in his jean pocket

Old Glory sputtered blue yellow   then brightly burned

throwing his shadow down on the ground before him   despite the afternoon sun

he walked away

                            reading

really hoping Jackboots might try to run him down

Burroughs  The Western Lands  always wound him up

                                                                                the road to the western lands is . . the most dangerous in the world                                                                                                                                                      

                                                                           

walking Thursday afternoon,  16  4. 15

1901,  Thursday,  16  4. 15