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many of them do

November 16, 2007

But I realize also at this moment that the back of my jacket feels heavy, saggy like.
” Jeez, Marie” sez I as I turn, reaching up to my shoulder at the same moment. Some fuckin thing is sticking out of my trapezius muscle, and while I turn, stringy wads of goopy stuff are dropping off me, doing plop-plops on the tile. I grab the thing sticking out and it just falls out of me. A piece of wood which I toss. By now I have turned all the way and there is little Slats, a halo of light around her from the sun coming through the windows at the front of Boss’ place. Now she is Anne-Marie, holding a smoking gun. Boss is a load of dirty shirts at my feet, his back is blown out and its’ contents are splattered on the jacket I’m already taking off. Good leather, shot to shit.
” He got up and stabbed you with part of the table, Paulie. I had to. I had to do it”.
” Moved quick for a half-dead guy, huh? ” This I said while looking closely at the face of a killer. Distorted and stretched tight her skin was, lost like an old work glove I saw in a gutter uptown.
” Wipe the gun, Annie, we gotta go.”
The alley was stinking as many of them do. Small puddles standing around held water that reflected sweet light snuck down from between the buldings. We half trotted to the cross street at the top. Annie wiped the blood and stuff off my neck and out of my hair. She did the spit on her thumb thing to get a speck off my cheek. The most natural thing of love to do, it was. Oh, man.

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