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hanging like paper.

he said, “I don’t eat

nothin’.”

I bought him a beer and the

whore a beer.

now there, I thought, is a man

who doesn’t eat

meat, he doesn’t eat

vegetables. kind of a saint.

it was like a church in there

as only the truly lost

sit in bars on Tuesday mornings

at 8:00 a.m.

then the whore said, “Jesus,

if I don’t score to night I’m

finished. I’m scared, I’m really

scared. you guys can go to skid row

when things get bad. but where can a

woman go?”

we couldn’t answer her.

she picked up her beer with one hand

and played with her blue beads with the

other.

I finished my beer, went to the

corner and got a Racing Form from Teddy the

newsboy—age 61.

“you got a hot one today?”

“no, Teddy, I gotta see the board; money

makes them run.”

“I’ll give you 4 bucks. bet one for

me.”

I took his 4 bucks. that would buy a sandwich,

pay parking, plus 2

coffees. I got into my car, drove

off. too early for the

track. blue beads and bones. the

universe was

bent. a cop rode his bike right up

behind me. the day had really

begun.

like a cherry seed in the throat

naked in that bright

light

the four horse falls

and throws a 112-pound

boy into the hooves

of 35,000 eyes.

good night, sweet

little

motherfucker.

turnabout

she drives into the parking lot while

I am leaning up against the fender of my car.

she’s drunk and her eyes are wet with tears:

“you son of a bitch, you fucked me when you

didn’t want to. you told me to keep phoning

you, you told me to move closer into town,

then you told me to leave you alone.”

it’s all quite dramatic and I enjoy it.

“sure, well, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to you, I want to go to your

place and talk to you…”

“I’m with somebody now. she’s in getting a

sandwich.”

“I want to talk to you…it takes a while

to get over things. I need more time.”

“sure. wait until she comes out. we’re not

inhuman. we’ll all have a drink together.”

“shit,” she says, “oh shit!”

she jumps into her car and drives off.

the other one comes out: “who was that?”

“an ex-friend.”

now she’s gone and I’m sitting here drunk

and my eyes seem wet with tears.

it’s very quiet and I feel like I have a spear

rammed into the center of my gut.

I walk to the bathroom and puke.

mercy, I think, doesn’t the human race know anything

about mercy?

mystery leg

first of all, I had a hard time, a very hard time

locating the parking lot for the building.

it wasn’t off the main boulevard where

the cars all driven by merciless killers

were doing 55 mph in a 25 mph zone.

the man riding my bumper so

close I could see his snarling face

in my rearview mirror caused me

to miss the narrow alley that would have

allowed me to circle the west

end of the building in search of parking.

I went to the next street, took a right, then

took another right, spotted the building, a blue

heartless-looking structure, then took

another right and finally saw it, a tiny

sign: parking.

I drove in.

the guard had the wooden red and white

barrier down.

he stuck his head out a little window.

“yeah?” he asked.

he looked like a retired hit man.

“to see Dr. Manx,” I said.

he looked at me disdainfully, then said,

“go ahead!”

the red and white barrier lifted.

I drove in,

drove around and around.

I finally found a parking spot a good distance away,

a football field away.

I walked in.

I finally found the entrance and the elevator

and the floor

and then the office number.

I walked in.

the waiting room was full.

there was an old lady talking to the

receptionist.

“but can’t I see him now?”

“Mrs. Miller, you are here at the right time

but on the wrong day.

this is Wednesday, you’ll have to come

back Friday.”

“but I took a cab. I’m an old lady, I have almost

no money, can’t I see him now?”

“Mrs. Miller, I’m sorry but your appointment

is on Friday, you’ll have to come back

then.”

Mrs. Miller turned away: unwanted,

old and poor, she walked to the

door.

I stepped up smartly,