he followed cowpaths deer an
elk trails in Montanas Bitterroot
who knew the lay of the land
better than they
he hiked with his dog Fatty a Samoyed Husky cross
carried a Colt
revolver hung in a cartridgeholster casually around his chestunder his right
arm forward so it didnt interfere with the natural swing
of his arms a KA-Bar knife at his spine
lions and bears no tigers OhMy
he wanted options while he was in
the mountains
in his Twenties those trails
always intrigued himhad called to him
now rural California a small city footpaths fashioned by small animals were followed by intransigents
homeless vagrants the paths wound down to creek beds ran beside them and passed under street
bridges these too intrigued him
people he came upon glared at
him asif he was intruding asif they
had some right to it and theirs superseded his
he didnt carry the Colt
the KA-Bar nestled at his spine
Whadaya want? they snarled
Im walkin
Walk somewhere else.
Somewhere else is ahead As I said Im walkin
You might wanna turn around, man, head
back from where you came.
I might say the same to you I live here in this town
Probably a good chance if you
take advantage of local shelters or food kitchens a portion of my money is helping
you anif thats the case you should say
thank you
But in any case Im passing through
You might wanna think about it
again.
behind the man a bush trembled
there was no wind in the creek
hollow
I dont suppose you understand a declarative
clause
another man stood up out of the
bush
he held a dried broken tree limb like a staff
before him
Im passing
through
he didnt linger
for any furthur yammering
the ball was in their court
if necessary hed protect himself
the talker bent over and picked
up a crude staff too
they hadnt pay attention to the
saplings growing mellpell around them
they could jab
they couldnt swing
their Mommas raised fools
he slipped the KA-Bar out from
his spine unsheathed it
he kept a keen edge on it with a stone
it flashed a line of lightning
under the green colourthe leafy canopy
he kept walking
they paused
he who hesitates is lost
they let him pass
not that they let him
Discretion is the better part of
valour
Shakespeare
Henry the Fourth
Falstaff pretending to be dead on
the battlefield rises Prince Hal thinks
he is dead and has left the stage Falstaff says The better
part of Valour, is discretion; in the which better part, I haue saued my life.
the “u’s” always bugged him
though not half as much as these
urchins
it didnt strike him queer in the moment or later when he recalled it that he thought of Shakespeare
he read his plays for pleasure
he didnt think for a moment that they
thought of Shakespeare
after walking past them he
continued along the small animal path along the creekits increasing
bramble never once looking back over his
shoulder
the next bridge was in a halfmile
he couldnt help but casually
wonder if more Mommas hadnt raised fools
1336, Friday,
4 5. 19
1429, Twosday,
7 5. 19
