today's moon; will there be anyone not taking up his pen? Onitsura
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Running full out, barefoot and shirtless on hot, sticky streets, pieces of broken bottles, a yellow flash in sodium light, the crickets go quiet when we rush past, two pale ghosts on a rippling breeze. And then - we catch up. More fun at the OK corral. Out comes the mace, another, cut off at the knees. Payback is such a bitch.
Walking home again, we ditched the weapons before the police arrived. For once, it's enjoyable talking to the cops. They like us, too - you can tell by the ribbing they give us for being barefoot, in just our skivvies, for that matter. We'd left in a hurry - the proper response, like it happens every day, or night in this case - just act like it's nothing at all.
There's a tacit agreement we both can make peace with - each of us knows "the law" can't get there in time. An eery calm descends upon us as we take a few moments to spend in idle chatter, the waning crescent grinning above.
among shoots of bamboo -
a brand new tattoo