A locus for eccentrics (hopefully)

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Randy

Randy swigs beer from a Crazy Horse tall boy
Wrapped tight in a paper bag
The odd jobs always find him:
Washing bicycles, detailing cars.
“I’m a hustler,” he told me
One night, while I smoked a cigarette
And sucked down a beer.
“You got any smokes?”
His white towel
Spilled out his back pocket;
I gave him five dollars.

Early one morning,
I tried to buy weed.
“No problem.
But I’ll be needin’ the money first.”
He came back 15 minutes later
Handed me a half-empty baggie.
“They goin’ to get the rest.
Up Texas City way.”
Later, Randy told me the rest:
“Shit, they got busted.
Cops took ‘em down.”
I never saw my weed or my money.
But Randy still asks me
Everyday
For a cigarette and a cold one.

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