THE DEAL
Playing my hand before the cohorts of the living -
all those guys who dine with the Admiral and his
devil-in-disguise routine - I quickly tire of the
game. We are looking at old houses in a real estate
auction; people lined up to get a seat, all holding
fan-shaped paddles to signal their bids. I'm not sure
under this lamplight what even the deal here is - all
foreclosures, or abandoned houses, or something. But
they're all curiously quaint and well-kept, and all of
a certain vintage - some perfectly steady and old
Americana, the rim of old Rim-Rock, those sorts
of Westfield homes paraded in magazines. What
happened I never got the story. Mass exodus? A
poisoned water? Sinkholes found beneath? Hold
not my breath, it would take too long, and
no one's talking anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment