Saturday, August 31, 2013

Tattoo


















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. With the waning crescent grinning above, an eery calm descends upon us all, our last few moments together spent in idle chatter.


sparrows flitter and dance
through a forest of bamboo -
that brand new tattoo



;;;



2 comments:

altadenahiker said...

Well done -- photo and prose.

bandit said...

'
edited June 15, 2017

a little improvement, Swede. I miss you.