but with dishonorable intent and profane desire. It’s rightly
the bartender’s. H e’s been taking the money as it’s been due
with righteous discipline, which is w hy you ain’t overdrawn
on the account; you asked him in a tiny mouse voice afraid o f
the answer, you squeaked in the male din, a frightened
whisper, you asked him if you owed, you got up the nerve,
and yo u ’re straight with him as far as it goes but these extra
bills are rightly his; or you could have another drink; but you
had wanted to end it well, with some honor; and also he ain’t a
waitress, dear, and the m oney’s got his mark on it; and he ain’t
cracked a smile or said a tender word all night, which a girl
ain’t used to, he don’t like girl drinkers as a matter o f principle
you assume, he’s fast, he’s quiet, he’s got a hard, cold face with
a square ja w and long, oily hair and a shirt half open and a long
earring and bad teeth and he’s aloof and cold to you; and then
suddenly, so fast it didn’t happen, there’s a big, warm hand on
your hand, a big, hairy hand, and he’s squeezing your fingers
around the two dollars and he’s half smiling, one half o f his
face is smiling, and he says darling take a fucking cab. Y ou
stare at him but you can’t exactly see him; his face ain’t all in
one piece; it’s sort o f split and moving; and before you exactly
see his mouth move and hook it up with his words he’s gone,
w ay to a foreign country, the other end o f the bar where
they’re having bourbon, some cowboys with beards and hats.
Life’s always kind in a pinch. The universe opens up with a
gift. There’s generosity, someone gives you something special
you need; two dollars and you don’t have to suck nothing, you
are saved and the man in his generosity stirs you deeply.
Y o u ’re inspired to succeed with the rest o f the plan— move,
stand, walk, execute each detail o f the plan with a military
precision, although you wish you could take o ff your T-shirt
because it’s very hot but you follow the plan you made in your
mind and although your legs buckle and the ground isn’t solid,
it’s swelling and heaving, you make it past the strange, w avy
creatures with the deep baritone voices and the erections and
you get out, you get out the door even though it’s hard and
yo u ’re afraid because you can see outside that it’s raining, it’s
raining very hard, it’s pouring down, it’s so wet, you really
have an aversion to it because all your clothes will be drenched
and soaking and your lungs will be wet and your bones will
get all damp and wet and you can’t really see very well and the
rain’s too heavy and everything looks different from before
and you can’t really see through the rain and it’s getting in
your eyes as if your eyes are under water and burning, all
drowned in water, they hurt, and everything’s blurred and
your hair’s all wet as if it w o n ’t ever be dry again and there’s
water in your ears deep down and it hurts and everything's
chilly and wet. The w o rld ’s wet and watery and without
definition and without any fixed places o f reference or fixed
signs and it’s as if the city’s floating by you, like some flood
uprooted everything and it’s loose on the rapids and everywhere you step you are in a flood o f racing cold water. Y ou r feet are all wet and your legs are all wet and you squoosh in
your boots and all your clothes are soaked through and you are
dripping so much that it is as if you yourself are raining,
w ater’s flooding o ff you and it’s useless to be a person with
legs who counts on solid ground because here you have to
walk through water, which isn’t easy, yo u ’re supposed to
sw im through it but there’s not enough to swim through and
there’s too much to walk through, it’s as if yo u ’re glued and
gum m y and loose and the ground’s loose and the water’s loose
and yo u ’re breathing in water as much as air and you feel like
some fucking turkey that’s going to drow n in the rain; which
probably you will. Y o u ’re trying to walk home and it’s been a
long time, the old trick o f putting one foot in front o f the other
doesn’t seem to be working and you don’t seem to have got
very far but it’s hard to tell since nothing looks right or
familiar and everything’s under water and blurry and yo u ’re
cold and sort o f fixed in place because the w ater’s weighing
you down, kind o f making you so heavy you can’t really m ove
as i f yo u ’re an earthbound person m oving effortlessly through
air as is the case with normal people on normal days because it
ain’t air, it’s water. Y o u ’re all wet as if you was naked and your
clothes are wet and heavy as if they was lead and your breasts
are sore from the wet and the cold and your pubic hair’s all
wet and rubbing up against the wet stu ff all bunched up in
your crotch and there’s rain rolling down your legs and
com ing out the bottom o f your pants and yo u ’d be happier
naked, wet and naked, because the clothes feel very bad on
you, wet and bad. T h ey’re heavy and nasty and cold. The
m oney’s in your hand and it’s all wet, all rained out, soaking
wet, and your hand’s clutched, and you try proceeding
through the wet blur, you need to stay on the sidewalks and
you need to avoid oncoming cars and turning cars and crazy
cars that can’t see any better than you and you need to see the
traffic lights and you need to see what’s in front o f you and
w hat’s on the side o f you and what’s behind you, just as on any
regular day, and at night even more; but you can’t see and the
rain keeps you from hearing as well and you proceed slow ly
and you don’t get too far; it’s been a long time you been out
here and you haven’t gone but half a block and you are
drenched in water and breathing too fast and breathing too
hard and your legs aren’t carrying you right and the ground’s
not staying still and the water’s pushing you from behind and
it’d like to flatten you out and roll over you, and it ain’t nice
lapping against the calves o f your legs; and a cab stops; which
you have barely ever ridden in before, not on your own; it
stops; you’ve been in them when someone’s given you money
to deliver packages and said where to go and exactly what to
do and how much it would cost and still you were scared it
would cost too much and you wouldn’t have it and something
terrible would happen; a cab stops and you don’t know if two
dollars is enough or if he thinks you’re turning tricks, a dumb
wet whore, or if he just wants to fuck or if you could get inside
and he’d just take you home, a passenger; a cab stops and
yo u ’re afraid to get in because you’re not a person who rides in
cabs even in extremis even though you have two dollars and
it’s for taking a cab as the bartender said if you didn’t dream it
and probably he knows how much everything costs; a cab
stops; and yo u ’re wet; and you want to go home; and if you
got in the cab you could be home almost right away, very
close to right away, you could be home in just some few
minutes instead o f a very long time, because if you walk you