he closed Chazes Black Wings he was readingkept a finger in it to hold his spot and sat down on a bus stop bench to close his eyes and listen to the sounds of the construction site across the avenue the parkway listen to its hem and haw its buzz like out of a bee hive the buzz that was in his blood

he didnt listen long

the sounds these many years later werent as comforting as they once were there were no hammer blows the bang bang staccatothe measured blows that pounded a 16penny nail in with each strike

                                                                                       instead he heard the soundthe erratic pneumatic punctuation of nailguns the chachachachacha inhale of tanks filling the dry umbilicals dragged from place to place skittering like inorganic snakes and the dull slapshots they made as they banged against the plywood sheets that the workmen appliednailing the plywood to the skeletal studs while working off mobile hydraulic lifts

they were effeminate carpenters who wore fake nailbags and often fingered their cellphones fat men who pulled triggers their bellys hanging over webbed belts trussed and steadied by wide suspenders 

there wasnt an athlete among them  

but he supposed there didnt have to be the job wasnt physical any longer

there were no ladders scaffoldings or jacks lifts rather that wheezed like persistent ventilators aiding unwell patients  

AHhe shook his head and stood up  the buzz still in his blood 

he opened the book 

                     “Jeepie’s face became a tangle of shining black, a modernistic tangle of fluid and flesh where bullets from the cover tore into it . . .”

Kahrist he said closing the book on his finger again One more death Happy its literal   

1404,  Twosday,  17  9. 19

1047,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  1  4. 20