Interjection II

II

Me and [K] are sitting out front of the crisis center, smoking a cigarette, when a guy walks up to us, starts screaming, pees himself then storms away.

“What was that....” she turns and asks me, not expecting an answer.

“ I don't know, but he peed himself.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” A minute later two guys sitting on the opposite bench come over and confirm my story. They're laughing and rowdy and get us watching the man stumble the rest of the way down the street.

“He gonna get it, go past that bridge, them youngins gone get him.”

“Mmmhmmm.” His friend agrees.

“Gonna pull his pants off and kick 'em while he's dow.”

“Mmmhmmm, They like them drunks.” His friend interjects.

“Gonna kick 'em and pull his pants off too.”

Me and [K] are intrigued for a minute but as the sun continues to set and nothing happens we resume our quiet cigarette talk. I'm desperately trying to connect with her, trying to find a part of her that's from the way it used to be, in the good times at least.

“There's a man in the car,” she says all of a sudden, in a soft monotone voice, “but he's not really there.”

“Yeah?” I ask and start to laugh nervously. “What's he look like?”

“Bald, pale.”

“He look fat too?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “he looks dead.”