I went missing yesterday  --  I had a date in San Francisco with two sublime beauties

Thursday,  21  1. 16 

the little girl asked

                              What are the birds trying to say

What

See how they are scribbling in the sky Scribble scribble scribble

What are they trying to say

he watched the starlings murmurations their twisting an doubling  their frantic knotting

scribbling   as she said

I dont know honey Theyre very excitedhuh

Though it seems happy writing Very happy

Doesnt it

It does   Yes

I think if I could fly I would write like that too

he looked up again

                                        then breathless high in his throat   Yes       I would too love I would too

1234,  Thursday,  21  1. 16

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

 

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 

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      

      

0146,  Sunday, 17  1. 16

finished it up listenin to Miles:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-uS57DtPxw