a tiny joke

its an old joke goes something like this if you remember stop me no sense wastin breath or time on an old harhar

a double amputee sits in a thrashed wheelchair at a street intersection a little yellow dog in his lap he waits to cross waits on the lights to change to follow the white-lined pedestrian crosswalk  he aint really a pedestrian

an attorney could argue he aint got legs

from behind a black shadow falls over him

he jerks startled by the soundless suddenness of it

even the dog is taken unaware

its a big corner

the amputee images the shadowcaster could have come up on either side of him rather than directly behind him uncomfortably at his back christ hes ridin a chair he aint agile he aint fit

perturbed a bit frantic he turns his chair akimbo throwing a glance over his left saying You startled me

his eyes look up into and meet a black featureless face a shadow casting a shadow he almost rolls awkwardly off the curb into the street into the tight moving traffic

certainly they must see the motorists this huge black monolith

  

the dog sits up in his senseless lap cocks its head remains quiet fixing the amputee with more disquiet the dog was a yipper hed go hoarse by days end tellin Tiny to be quiet Shaddup when his patience was exhausted

Tiny didnt listen well or fear the amputees hand or a rolled newspaper

Tiny was keenly aware the man would have to roll to catch him he wasnt swift he was as much bark as Tiny

Tinys confusion equaled the amputees

it was a strange black thing

the amputees halting breath stuttering wordless was terrorized  nothing percolating in his brain captured caught on this corner traffic hurtling traffic at his elbow

he found himself fingering his breast pocket

one could suppose without knees this unconscious action suggested where or what reflexes he had might remain

fumbling he grasped at pamphlets feathering his baggy shirt pocket 

 

he didnt take his eyes off the black nonexistent face  a hollow a slight protuberance at once  static

  

several fell from his pocket onto Tiny

Tiny didnt seem to notice  fascinated

his fingers found one he careless glanced to find if its face was up or down and trembling slightly his fingers deftly rotated flipped the pamphlet so when he presented it its title was immediately readable  a well-practised manipulation 

 

he took a deep breath and exhaled May I offer you this

the pamphlets was titled ARE YOU GOOD ENOUGH TO GO TO HEAVEN?

there was a yellow haloed suggestive sunburst at the top over ARE YOU 

 

GOOD was emboldened and also in the sunburst yellow

at its bottom beneath HEAVEN emboldened in blue was also an inverted billowing blue cloud

HEAVEN filled with yellow light and blue clarity

if the black shadow opened the pamphlet it would have seen possibly read its first tenet YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHER GODS BEFORE ME

the amputee knowing his ware must truly have been mortified unthinking . . . BEFORE ME

was he GOOD ENOUGH TO GO TO HEAVEN

Tiny was a shoo-in

BEFORE ME . . .

if the black shadow turned the pamphlet over to its back side it would have seen possibly read By the way, someone cared enough about you to give you this tract.

that was dishonest

the pamphlet was a feign

the traffic noise behind the amputee lulled

he went off the curb backwards without looking landing agilely Tiny agilely keeping his seat and sped arms churning madly across the street six lanes wide

he never saw the vehicle that crushed him

anymore than the driver of the pick-up hastily making a right not stopping for the red ever saw the amputee or Tiny

Tiny was a shoo-in

                

(occurred to me yesterday 2053) am ReggaeFriday,  25  3. 16

0940,  Saturday,  26  3. 16

Kilimanjaro DarkJazz  From the Stairwell  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d29u8KWiacw