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, famous 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 buried some stuff back there»
We ducked down and walked through The black bushes
My shoe made a sucking 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 and Spell
In moments downhill, towards sleep in the stillwater shop
Imagining places I was almost sure I’d never been and had taken to assuming
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 glass shavings that could never be reassembled into the gone
order of buildings and the shade pouring off of them
«WATER!»