Mama Just Wants to Barrelhouse All Night Long
From his spot in the alley Jimmy can hear the skaters and the homeless guys in the park across the street. Wheels grinding and gurgly chatter. Babble, white noise, the city equivalent of a river's roar and tumble. He thinks about the Susquehanna. The world's largest river you can walk across, he used to call it. He looks around at the dirty alley, his shopping bags full of clothes, the moving van blankets, the transistor radio with no batteries. Jesus, he thinks, I'm a long way from Pennsylvania.
posted by dave @ 6:36 AM
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Behind him he hears a bump, the scuffle of feet. Jimmy braces himself, ready to run or shrink into the walls.
"Jimmy, man, what the fuck."
"Hey, Jesus," he says, "you got it?"
"Yeah, I gooot it," Jesus says, aping a rap song Jimmy recognizes from way back. He's still wearing his sunglasses and he's poking at his cuticles, like he does when he's high and coming down. He pulls the package out of his shirt and waves it in the air.
"What the fuck is that," Jimmy says. "That's not what we were talking about at all."
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