two steps and waltzed in between the shrubberies. Perhaps took a right swing towards Norbert's jaw. God will never keep her out of heaven. Even when he knows.
Hers
Were large
Without hope
For tiny
Hands.
14
GEORGE Smith standing three thirty in the afternoon on the sultry dim lit platform of Battery Station. The day's work done. Express trains speeding by on the central track between the pillars of the rapid transit system. Forty eight days since the Sunday with Miss Tomson. Counted, for their lonely, empty deadness without her.
Smith looking at his watch. Three thirty three. Removing a white silk glove to take a square of hanky to wipe sweat off the brow. A slender black briefcase sadly full of onion paper copies of recent correspondence. Miss Martin glum as she types the actionable acrobatic answers in room 604. While I look out at the white lavatory wall of the air shaft mentally writing there antidotes to naughty scrawls elsewhere in the world.
The yellow caution lights go green at the end of the station. As Matilda with her five wedding rings, had white little circles under the gold on her dark finger. Red lipstick on her lips lighting her face. Chopped me little lambs livers for dinner and said Mr. Smith you're not ready for redemption. Or burning holy shit. We got tight together on corn liquor. Mr. Smith, forget that high class whore Miss Tomson.
Today, like all the afternoons since, I go for a sit in the park zoo. On a bench under a tree hanging with colored balloons. Mothers munching popcorn pushing new babies by. Forlorn on this Battery Station waiting. To take tea in the hotel with the dull green high bronze roof. And stay to stare down through soft green cocktail light. At my white thick cup floating a tiny bag of leaves. Hunger in stomach and heart.
The disappearing swaying rear dots of a train down the tunnel. Stale faces. Person there full of rancor. Lurking among a few grabbers at life's banquet taking early trains. Five o'clock my fencing lesson. Hopeless foil lashing in all directions. Can't help smiling behind the mask at my amusing madness. Till yesterday Master Ferendelli wrenched back his head gear, gave me a great show of teeth, said really Mr. Smith, it would be so easy to run you through, please don't smile because you think I am a pin cushion.
Hoped so much to show Miss Tomson. My sword play which I took up Tuesday first thing after that Monday morning. Lathering each other in the deep blue tub before we left for town. As she stood in the bathroom doorway ready to wash. Breasts freely flashing. I nearly fainted. Till she covered them with her elbows. Nature gave you everything Miss Tomson. Yesh I guess I'm really something. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed. I pressed it harmlessly against her tit gently nudging her backwards one last time. Timbers shivering. Not bearing or caring to go back into the public world. Or silence as we drove back to town. Said I'd pay for all the bumps and damage, as she popped me out in front of Merry Mansions. Hugo opening the door. I blew a kiss to her from behind his back. And she smiled and waved roaring off down the street.
This leaning lurking shadow near me on the station. Don't dare to look up these days in case Bonniface is staring at me out of those red barrels he calls eyes. His presence has always led me drifting to disaster. The note he sent to Dynamo full of gentle beauty, regretful for the death of Miss Tomson's dog, which he said was buried in Dogdale Cemetery with every dignity. In soft moments admit that Bonnif ace is the kindest man I know. And after all the unanswered phone calls, I mailed the news to Miss Tomson, said I'd take her there to Goliath's grave, if she drove.
The shadow bumping against Smith's shoulder. Passengers filling the platform. The distant rumble of a train. Sound of spitting. A misdemeanour. Smith looking. Rancid face. Giving one a frosty spine. And a voice growling. At me.
"Why I'm better than you are."
Smith looking up. Into dark unkind eyes. Glaring. The mean head turning sideways to spit again on the platform. Smith sidestepping into a puddle collecting a drip from the roof. Hoping for the train. Someone throwing a piece of chewing gum at the large rat gambolling down the tracks. A shout said the rat