ALL YOU CAN DO
Mr. Cady kept the store - he sold lots
of things, shovels to springs. Outside
the front windows, where the benches
were, a few guys sat. They would read
the newspapers or talk. This and that,
whatever. It was 1961 - adequate but
primitive. Sputnik, beatnik, fast cars,
or they'd just gawk. Those girls in their
pedal pushers always got their gourd.
-
Early evening? Car smoke and pipe
smoke, the men sat around. Pepsi
Cola and rock and rolla, or some
other drink from a paper bag. It was
a weird time to be normal; but getting
normal to be weird.
-
I wasn't a part, just was way too young
by a few good years. One time one of
the guys asked me to go ask that girl
where she bought her sweaters with
bumps in them, because he thought
they were fine. Everyone laughed at
that, but not me. I thought something
was amiss (though I could surely see).
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