Drifting through this press of castellated steel and concrete, there's been word of the old cat I met back at the gallows. I don't know what he's up to these days, some have seen him watching jeopordy in the dinner hall in a hospital bed malaised, some working in the 5th street garden they said in a ball cap and cordoroy or puffing a cigar, streaks of gray whisked round his head. Or playing hangman at the park on the bricks in sidewalk chalk, in a crowd of lunch kids tall as a corn stalk. Myself I thought I saw him on front street once stood in a window striking a match, turning round only found a young attorney in tweed checking his watch.
And in the papers they say there's danger on the edge of town, I hear shouts in the alleys and the parking garages, loud sirens calling up the 90 or on broadway or paramount. They've seen fires at the precinct and I heard a clerk say sams bakery is also gone up in smoke, I think. I don't know what it's all about, and I keep hearing 'crazy times these' and 'funny that', but today I'm wondering about that bloke the one with the bow tie and cane. With the wheezy stare and a wheel of fortune grin. Where is that old man, whatever happened to him.
A flodgin peddler wandered through yesterday with the tribune. Thats watches rings nickles and knives, and three dollar bills that rhyme with plumes. I asked his name he said ben, ben from everclear and I kicked down a wad of fifteen fins. Offered a seat he pulled up a chair tossing me a luckystrike and set his derby down over the fare, 'Remember that Lorie w the trunk you know I think they called me up the other day'
I asked him what about, but saying nothing fished into his pockets and presented a rock his hand stretched out, just some rock and says there's danger on the edge of town.
'you still on the mephedrone, guy? what was it about'
'can't you see it writ there, fires, and a lighthouse'
Squinting, I motion warily for the bottle and he throws the duffle up on to the table next to the hat.
'I was seeing my brother about a gun out in Roanoke. Two quarts and an old coach. He lives up the drive on a few acres of trees. What's a roan billy fish hawk like you need with a hitch I said and he says he's got a couple out to buy his ford and they want his wood too. And I say but no gun huh.. "Protestants".
What's a city slicker like you need with a gun. Look, move along with your news we're not all daft, I can read too, and no more passages from the sunday oatmeal, I think I've got something I have to get to now..
'We went out to the back to fetch the piece and there's deer, a whole family of them maybe ten or fifteen, grazing. I said these your animals? they don't look scared. He says the rivers been right flush with the buzzards since the tackle shop down the way closed up and "wait watch this, hold on and you just watch".
So he loads it up..
'No. He goes inside and returns w an apple. Walks out to them casual as livestock and sits down at the first stump, ten or fifteen feet between and with a bowie knife in hand offers the apple up in the other'.