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warm blanket with fingers

December 23, 2007

So I’m sittin’ on the edge of the foldout in Pops’ TV room in my skivvies with my head in my hands, rubbin’ my mug, just wakin’ up. I got scratches from my skidding across the floor at the Boss’ place, my hands are raw and my knees are bruised from who knows what and I’m very afraid that my eyes are gonna leak any second. Way deep inside the Kid is very sad and upset. Pops booms in the back door.  “Paul, its all square. I seen who I needed to and talked to the guy that hires the guys”.It had started to rain last night right on cue. Never need to worry about the weather, it is always on time. He took off his jacket and shook it and the drops flew on my face and snapped me to. I looked up at the face that never changed.” Thanks Pop.” I started crying a bit, but if you didn’t know me you wouldn’t know it.” I love ya Pop….thanks”” Paulie, I told ya long time ago that I would love you whatever happened” He looked away for a cigarette in his jacket ” I ain’t always loved some shit you done, but you kid, always…always” Turning back he put the cigarette in his mouth and he smiled at me from his toes through his heart and on out the eyes. Then the old pug put that jaw-breakin’ right hand on the top of my head, felt like a fuckin’ warm blanket with fingers. Slowly he pulled my sorry blubberin’ head against his outside thigh and gently held it there while his baby son gushed out his grief and disappointment and humiliation, puttin a vertical puddle on the old guys trousers. The soul of good fortune was I right then with him next to me.

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