Monday, May 4, 2009


Carole, soured, Josey, soured, Teddy's shape bent irrevocably it would seem, Ronnie soured like morning mouth, Jackson's life grabbed suddenly by the shirt collar and tossed up a very very steep hill. Mountain almost, skiers up there when snow is.


He then, Jackson, rolls top over side down and smacks into a retaining wall. His friends are there, at the bottom, but don't slow him. They watch him come at them like a badly-spun dradle. They don't intervene.


Consciousness is lost and regained and they're standing over him, fiddling with the strands of dry grass and mud scabs that are on him; they wipe him off. His first words are punch-drunk what-what: It was you or they and I am where with who motor oil coffee Model-T shirt mine yours you pacifier pacific ocean want for nothing amen and amen and amen.


Finally there's a collision of sense and he's mad. Carole backs away, Josey backs away, Teddy runs a comb slowly slicking the coils of his hair, Ronnie reverses and trips and spins down a little herself. Jackson, he goes home, pours a little wine from grapes of dubious origin. He rummages through the cupboard then for a bandage he swears is there.

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