The Country Diary Of A Subway Conductor

"O get him out of there!" What if it cost 25c to wake up in the morning? A dollar, ten dollars? I'd pay it all the way to the poor house. It's not made if it's made in Roanoke. Night pulling up in front of the house like a bus. It came at me with shears. Her sweater had faces, famouse faces knitted all over it. The porch swing ticked off Central Daylight time. "How many hours do you think it'll take me to smoke this cigarette?" she said with a smile. The smell of fried food came drifting out one of the castle windows. "Lets go around back" I said "my brother burried some stuff back there." We ducked down and walked through the black bushes. My shoe made a s*cking sound in the turf. "He can afford anything" I said "he's got dogs that blow on trumpets." "Priests!" she cussed. Thunder cracks over Ben Franklin's shop. Who wrapped my dreams in a blanket and led them outside to the black book in the yard? "Hey what indian tribe occupied southern california? They were a lucky bunch of fellers!" Sting Bible, More Sea Bible, Knur & Spell. In moments downhill, towards sleep in the still water shop. Imagining places I was almost sure I'd never been & had taken to a*suming were the memories of my grandfather somehow deposited in my mind. They were there and gone, just before I could get my bearings, catch any names or find out where the hotel was. Just a pile of gla*s shavings that could never be rea*sembled into the gone order of buildings & the shade puring off of them. "WATER!"