What was that
what was that he had seen on
the uneven face on the plastered wall beside the castiron tub
its
clawed feet twitched anxiously
tricked by light the late summer
sun smeared on the frosted window over his shoulder casting his shadow
untethered by the fistfight that
broke his nose bleeding drips turning into blossoms on the still hot
water
vision blurred
he wasnt sure of any of it
he worked his bruised hands under the water a finger at a time rubbing them feeling for broken bones
No badly bruised
escaped from his throat
he turned to his shadow cast on
the wall
Bruised
yah We agree
he
nodded his head so it silently nodded its agreement its slavish acquiescence
he smiled sardonically
Bitch
he
wasnt calling his shadow a bitch
it
was reserved for the one of the three who was cajoled into the fight by the two
others who preened like they were going to throw in make it a three on one
the bitch he didnt know
the other two were punks and had fled before
he was pretty sure they didnt want
their pretty faces marred
maybe he hoped they doubled back
to help the unconscious bitch who had to be knocked cold to stop the fight because he wasnt gonna stop
the bitch gave good
but not better than him
he hoped he learned his lesson
about the other two or maybe went after
them when he healed up
he cautiously blew through his nose
he worked a black clot from his left
nostril bright red blood sprinkled the
side of the tub
he couldnt make anything of its
randomness
How bout you he said to his shadow But you probably cant seeNo you cant Usually I can find patterns in everything
Usually
You ought to come over here and
take a look
with his hand to his face fingers
resting on his nose over them he thought he saw it start a hesitation not sure
not taking his hand down he
turned to it so the diffuse sunlight was directly behind his head
it threw aligned his soft shadow
dropping his hand he watched
his ears either side of his head were
apparent
then its head tilted slightly to
its right as was his habit when he puzzled over something
he tilted his head right
it didnt follow
it seemed to darken
resentment
the ache in his nose his face tried
to distract him but he waved his hand before himself as if to chase it away as
if it were an annoying fly without breaking his watch at the plastered wall
his shadow didnt mime him
then it tilted its head upright
where they started
he followed in kind
it tilted its head left
he tilted his head left
their tilts were opposite each other
it tilted its head upright again
but he went past upright to his confused his puzzled incline and it seemed to him his countenance
darkened glowered his face flushed
he reached out across the edge of
the tub and with the back of a bruised finger he ran it down the walls uneven
face where the shadows cheek was
it was just a wall with his shadow
cast against it
he blinked
he brought his hand back and with
a knuckle he wiped his eyes pulled it across his left eye pushed it
across his right avoiding his broken nose
blinking again he was sure they
were working
he
wasnt concussed
Anything to say bitch
he called his shadow bitch
Cat gotcher tonguebut you you dont have
a tongue
Anything
he
was talking to a wall
maybe
he wasnt right after allit was more than a broken nose
then he reasoned a shadow would
be mute
it didnt have a tongue
it didnt have a tongue
he was about to say Got nothing when
it opened its pale blue eyes
1941, Friday,
2 9. 16
‘69 Jam Session at the Matrix in
SF https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alAkoZasJ-Y
