2033. VOUCH FOR THE CHAIN

VOUCH FOR THE CHAIN

(very fast)

That thing is finally over and good

tidings for that - maple tree and willow

both down by the pond. I can't remember

a thing except what I was wearing - those

same dreary clothes I wore everyday for weeks

and the shoes from under the pew and that jacket

with darning for holes and no pockets. I called it

my lucky one, for all the good it did me.

-

Overabundance never killed anyone - least alone

not me. And I never had it to know. Your cigarette

racer and your devil cabana. I slept for days in your

'hood. The old lagoon, where once grandma and

Aunt Mill had lived, that shambles of a shed, and

those boys with nothing in their heads but ill will.

Never got tired of that one - violence and adventure,

hand to hand. Like a dog's leash, tied at the neck.

-

We finally swam away - as I recall , swearing to reach

Brisbane or Canberra or one of those joints on a

good Australian current. How much more stupid

could we have been? Not much, Charlie, not much.