!Song!!

I felt like an alien in a little glass spaceship stuck out on the street. It was getting dark out, the sun had set invisibly. I look behind me to the theater. The glass doors reflect the street, so I can't see inside. But Jim's there for sure, checking up on me. Even though I can't see him in the shadowy light, I know he's waiting. I turn and face the street. The door clicks open and Jim moves into the booth behind me, pushing his groin into the back of my chair. He closes the door. I already know what he's gong to say, I know the speech by heart, I can practically recite it word for word. Plus the way he pops his P's-- it hurts my ears. Freddy's busy stuffing hot-dogs into the steamer. He always puts a million in there. I turn my head and watch outside. I'm staring at my reflection in the glass when Jim's face pops up in front of the booth. He makes his mouth into a big round hole, cupping his hand to it and leans toward the speaking hole in the window. He starts blowing air, clapping his hands. This coffee percolator imitation grates on my nerves. At least he's not in the booth. Then he sees I'm not reacting. He leans up to the glass. Let me in, I'm coming around the back. Oh, no, why doesn't he just leave me alone. I unlatch the door, he comes inside. His head seems to curve, almost touching the ceiling. See that guy over there, he's wanted for murder, Bob tells me. What?? I say. Yeah, he killed his wife last night. They found her early this morning. There's an APB out on him. He's supposed to leave town tonight, go on the run. You mean that guy over there, that guy talking to that girl? He murdered his wife? This morning? Yeah, him. Bob nods, takes a drink off his beer. I'm on the balcony now of a huge ballroom. There's a swing band playing below, a huge dance going on, the floor's jammed. People are calling up to me, come downstairs, join in. People dancing around in a line. I remember dancing with Kenny, worrying about whether or not my thighs were too flabby. Meanwhile, I'd been upstairs concocting the most incredible mind-blowing drug ever imagined that we were going to take. This was going to be the ultimate drug, really take people out. But then I think, maybe I mixed it up wrong. I wonder. Next thing, I'm getting into the back seat of a car, this guy's going to deliver me around to peddle the drug. Kingly There's a handsome well-dressed Black man coming down the street. He has on a shiny green suit, an expensive cut, shiny polished black wing-tips, and a nice new looking leather briefcase. Respectable. He sure looks out of place here, I think, glancing at the peepshows and porn shops lining the block. He meanders as if he has all the time in the world. Now he stops in front of The Chinese-American cafe next door. He puts his briefcase down and stands off to the side, bending over the pile of garbage bags near the curb, like an inspector. He looks up suddenly, like he heard something, listening with his head. Then he gestures at the cans, making a small bow. He carefully unties the garbage bags, sneaks a fast peek inside. he rolls up his right shirt sleeve, very carefully, just so. He bends down slowly, slowly reaching inside the bag, way down, his whole arm dis- appears. Then he pulls his arm back out slowly and stands, lifting a single noodle up above his head, regally, as if it were a precious necklace. Then he pauses for a moment, holding the noodle between his fingers and tilts his head back. He opens his mouth and swallows the noodle in one long slurp.