Everything seeks its own level

I lick my knuckle an work the spit in with my thumb to break up the blood.  If you use spit all you really need to worry about is the stainin of the skin.  Everythin else breaks up n flakes off, but less you get to it fast there's stainin an there ain't much you can do bout that.  I'm seein my boy today n I can't have him see his daddy looking like this.  Can't have his mother see it neither.  She'll open her mouth an that's what got me here in the first place, that mouth of hers.

Billy's tellin me there's work out of town, trying to get me out of this place, away from this madness, but I think I'll die if I leave the city.  I need it hot n dry n ugly so's any woman I meet's got somethin to offer, somethin new n different that I don't hate yet.  An I never hit any of them.  That's the God's honest truth.  Never a one.

Billy's been pushin hard to get me out of the city, out into the fields or on the road or some such.  Says I been gettin in trouble, says I need to get my head straight and stop bleedin on everythin.  Might be he's got himself a point.  Way I look at it though I'm feedin this town, an takin my use from it.  That's the least it could do, really, as I see it.  Not that I'm owed nothin, just that it's the decent thing to do.  Not that there's anythin decent about me by any stretch but I seem to get by alright.

We're standin in front of the yellow mercado and Billy's talkin n talkin an I got blood in my mouth.  Sun's beatin down an I ain't really listenin to Billy too close on account of I'm distracted and the blood's dryin too fast on my fists.  Probably a good thing as most of it's mine.  Mighta broke the pinkie.  Can't really tell, never bent right anyway.

So the sun's beatin down and it's good n dusty and I think about it and I hate this place probably bout as much as I hate myself, so I reckon we about deserve each other.  Hate to waste good beer, hell, any beer, but my mouth's too dry to deal with this blood an I need to see my boy today.

Billy's uncle, Billy's sayin, is lookin for folks to knock down buildins in Amarillo.  I look over at Billy (Christ he got fat.  Never used to sweat like that, even in the heat of the day.).  He knows I ain't been to Amarillo since, an I wasn't figurin on goin back any time soon.  Soon as I think on it though, there it is.  Quick as it comes, I feel the firecrackers up my spine n I smell the bleach again an Jesus Christ she's gone n she ain't never comin back an shit this is what I got?  I got money's no good at Shonda's n I got a boy his momma's turnin gainst me an I got aches in the mornin n fights at night n I gotta Yes sir No sir all day long an I gotta bite it back cause I'd break him in two an go back up n ain't no comin back this time around an this place is fuckin killin me, bleedin me dry.  I'm leavin holes in walls an pukin up my blood in alleys n parkin lots an only reason I got to mind it is I got a little boy sittin front of a TV somewhere while his momma's suckin a cock to put food on the table an I ain't good enough?

Billy's talkin n talkin n I ain't listenin.  I'm takin my boy, I'm takin him an goin North, so's I can teach him to fight an fuck an be a man an make the world his own.  I'm takin my boy an raise him up right, show him you don't let no one break you, show him how to put someone in the ground, someone you loved, an walk away strong.  Teach him to take a punch an get right back up and take another.

Billy's talkin and talkin and I step off the curb an find myself weightless.



8 March 2007