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
