pat garrett + billy the kid

When I say I picked up my son from the subway I mean I laid in wait with grocery sacks halfway between his stop and the house I am getting old the wine is not so easy on the joints undrained never mind the other shit the food, this and that, the perishables

He took one bag without my asking, he is a stand up kid we wound our way back up the hill at a snail\’s pace I don\’t have it in me to strike out pigeon chested not with a cigarette clamped between broken teeth, spit feathering

I fumbled the key and we stepped inside the smokehouse no meat cured dishes piled up in tidy stacks set down those sacks and cracked a bottle

Well, I said. Finally.

I poured two glasses, one small one just to be polite and while his back was still turned while dogs bared fangs and dybbuks rumbled the hair long, blond, on his neck like some doomed Greek god twilight gathering at the shoulder sat down to write a poem.

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