they called him high wall
or 77
didnt know why
didnt ask
there was no reason I could
assume or ever get at
thats how he was introduced to me
77 later
77 a neglected nickname
youd
call him that several times before it occurred to him you were vying for his attention
Me
Ya
77
Who
else I be talkin to
we werent close or estranged
familiar
we didnt cross one anothers path
too often
but
had we come upon each other in a dark alley in profile or silhouette wed know who the other was an provide
a wide
berth
maybe
or maybe not a nod
never a word
I wouldnt speak for him but regardin me I didnt care for his sonorous voice words went missing in it
once I found myself inside a white
nine-passenger stationwagon squatting outside a filling station
gas topped off
waitin on high wall to return
from the bathroom
through the plateglass window I saw
him go through the staind MENs door past the profile of a shaggy-haired clerk
who was filling a cigarette rack immediately above his head producing carton after carton hed
finger five six packs at a time slip em deftly
at an alarming speed into their aluminum slots or rows
without a doubt he was the best well-oiled
cog of the stations operation an artform
fascinating to watch
or else I was bored stiff nothing better to do or look at
or else I was bored stiff nothing better to do or look at
it was night an easy to see inside
the well-lighted station
when high wall emerged he made a
beeline towards the now restive clerk
they exchanged words
the clerks head bowed as if something
on the countertop suddenly caught his attention
he sidestepped to the cash
register banged it open with a quick right the side of his hand
both his hands went down out of sight
an reemerged fingering a fan of cash
he handed it over the counter to
high wall
high wall had a fist full of
coloured bandannas
he dropped them on the counter(I
assumed) took the offered spread of cash turned an walked out to the car
I swung the drivers door open for
him
he couldnt with his hands full
getting in he threw the cash
into my lap Ya wanna count it he said
bigger bills than I imagined
he said he didnt ask
then fingering the carkeys lost in thought he suddenly unseated him an went to the back of the stationwagon
looking up from the count I caught him in the rearview he took the red five gallon gascan out of the back an walked towards the station
I lost count High wall
he ignored me
77
the usual conviviality in his step when
we were around each other had evaporated
77
tho I suppose there was no turnin back
inside he appeared to yell at the clerk an began sloshin the gas around
the store
the clerk highballd it out of the
station didnt go anywhere near a
telephone
he took particular care to kick the
MENs door open an sloshed gas inside it too
at the counter he upended the can
shook it ferociously then spun heavin it through the plateglass
the broken window grinnd like a wicked
jack-o-lantern
he went to his jeans pocket an produced his ol mans silver lighter the only thing his old man left him then thinkin better I think he laughed he pocketed it an grabbed a cheap Bic off the counter an a mittful of roadmaps
he struck the lighter an one by one lit
the maps slingin em over his shoulder as he made his way to the front
door
they flutterd lookd like angels on fire
they flutterd lookd like angels on fire
the jack-o-lantern flickerd an threw
its wickd grin on the concrete apron
the place went up like tinder behind
him as he walked casually back to the car an took his seat behind the wheel
we sat a moment longer watchin the
place engulfed in fire belchin black smoke
Whats the count
Fuck if I know
he looked at me menacingly
Save it motherfucker I was diggin yer
display
I spose
Ya
Spose Imagine
we pulled out onto the single road El
Camino Real that ran through the heart of the town an lead to the highway
the fire threw a beautiful orange pallor on the night probably the prettiest thing this grimy town had seen would see in awhile if they stuck their ostrichheads outside
when we made the highway I returned to the count
Ill letcha know
Lemme know
The count
Awh
Yawanna know
Know
Why
Not necessary I can imagination
Fuck yer imagination
Those places never they never never keep their bathrooms clean
Whaddawe Pigs
An didnt rob em Sold em 'is bandannas
An didnt rob em Sold em 'is bandannas
0146, Sunday, 17
1. 16
finished it up listenin to Miles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-uS57DtPxw
