Posted by Atticus on August 21, 2004, at 15:56:37
Red-Tinted World of Slow Time, 1988
Coke machine is hungry,
Starving,
Ravenous
For money
As it slurps
The dollar bill
Abruptly
From my left fingers,
Waits for me
To punch one
Of its big plastic buttons,
Then sends
An aluminum drum
Clattering
Down an unseen chute
Into the tray below,
Like an animal’s
dropping.
I pop the top,
Sip,
Then pass it
To Temple,
Who takes
A long slug
Of the sugar-saturated
Brown gunk inside.We lean
Against the worn
Red brick
Of the school’s hallway,
The flaps
Of our fencing jackets
Open and hanging loose,
Our masks and sabers
Dangling from our
Gloved right hands,
As we take a breather
From practice
And tally up
The fresh welts
Marking our bodies
Under two layers
Of thick, protective cloth.Tokin’ Tiny Tim
Joins us,
Fresh from smoking
A bowl,
Flattening
And re-flattening
A dollar bill
In an effort
To get the machine
To accept his offer
And spit out
Something
To cool
His parched throat.
After his fifth attempt,
I pass
My Coke to him
And he gratefully
Chugs some down
Before handing
The can back to me.
He slumps
Against the wall
Next to a bulletin board,
As caffeine and cannabis
Begin
A pitched battle
For control
Of his brain.Then an
Unwelcome
Figure
Struts
Into view,
Tripper,
Big Assh*** on Campus.
He pushes Temple
To one side
As he sidles up
To the machine.
She stumbles
For just a second,
Then regains
Her footing.
“Watch it, pr**k,” I say,
Even as Temple mouths
The word, No, to me
And softly
Shakes her head.
Tripper’s eyes narrow,
And he growls,
“You say something?”
I remain silent,
And Temple looks relieved
As he begins
To lumber away.
Then he stops,
Pivots,
And adds,
“Next time
Tell your kike girlfriend
To get out
Of the fu**ing way.”
Temple visibly flinches
At the repulsive
Word,
And her pale, pale
Skin seems,
Impossibly,
To drain of color
Even further.The next moments
Seem to flow by
In the special type
Of hushed
And suspended
Time
That I glimpse
When I look
Into the dome
Of a snow globe
That’s just
Been shaken,
The tiny
White pellets
Drifting
And drifting
For an eternity
And a day
Before finally
Settling
To the bottom
Once again.
And I don’t
Know it yet,
But my actions
In the seconds
That follow
Will define
Me,
For better
And
For worse,
During the remainder
Of my time
In high school.I drop my mask
And fling my can
Of Coca-Cola
To my left side,
Noting
The spray
Of caramel-colored
Droplets
Streaming
In loose spirals
From the opening
As the red-and-white
Projectile
Tumbles end
Over end
Before striking
The nearby bulletin board,
Shattering
The pane of glass covering
The announcements
Affixed to the cork
With brightly colored thumbtacks.I notice Tim flinching
As a beautiful
Shower of
Sparkling shards
Suddenly fills
The air
Around
His head.
Temple’s left hand
Is stretching out
To clutch
My right arm
But she’s too
Late
To stop this now,
The program’s already
In progress.
I lunge
Toward the rat-bast**d
With the tip
Of my saber,
Moving unerringly
Toward his face.
Tripper,
Suddenly alert,
Mouth straining
To form the words
“Are you crazy?”
Throws his hands
Up protectively
Which is exactly
What I want.
The blade
Whisks through
The air
A good six inches
Above his scalp,
And now his arms
Are where I’d hoped
They’d be
After the feint
To his head,
Away
From his sides,
As I drop the
Blade
To his right
And
Hit him
With a flank cut,
The weapon
Snapping
Against his ribs
Like a supple
Steel whip
Before
I withdraw it.
I can still hear
The tinkling
Of glass
Striking
The hallway’s floor
Over
My left shoulder
And the hiss
Of carbonated
Sugar water,
Agitated
To eruption,
Fountaining
From the fallen
Can.Tripper’s expression
Of sheer disbelief
Quickly slides
Into a grimace
Of pain
And he falls
To the floor
Clutching
His now-torn
Shirt.
Tim looks ill,
Stricken
As his frantic eyes
Meet mine
And find
Not the slightest
Trace
Of remorse.
I turn to Temple,
Whose gaze
Pivots,
Pendulum-like,
From Tripper
To me,
Then back again,
And it is what
I see in her features
That finally
Draws me back
From the
Red-tinted world
Of slow time:
Fear.
Fear of me.I toss my weapon
To the ground,
Hurl my mask
Down the hall
Where it lands
And spins
Away
Down the corridor
Into the shadows.
I step past Tripper,
Beyond all caring
About the sh**storm
That I’ve just
Set in motion.
He’s cursing
And groaning,
A faint trickle
Of blood
Seeping
From between
His left fingers
As they clutch
His injury.
My pale blue eyes
Feel
As if they’ve
Turned
To chips of ice
Embedded in my skull,
And Tripper
Skitters back
Just a little
As if anticipating
A coup-de-grace kick,
But
He needn’t worry,
He’s just a bug
To me right now
And he’s been
Swatted
Enough.“I need a smoke,”
I say to Temple
In a voice
So indifferent
That it doesn’t sound
Like my own,
Trudging off,
Sneakers squeaking
Loudly
Amid the hallway’s
Frozen tableau
Of pain
Of confusion
Of astonishment
To my locker
To grab my Marlboros
And my leather jacket
Before heading outside
To the blacktop
Of the basketball court
Encircled by
A wire-mesh fence.I’m on my third cig
When Walter bursts
Through the door
To my left.
“You alright?”
He asks breathlessly.
“Don’t know,”
I answer, exhaling
Into the frosty
February night.
“What the f***
Did you do?”
He asks,
A slight shiver
Running up his spine.
“Gator,” I say,
“I have no fu**ing idea.”Temple emerges
From the building next,
Knowing,
Like Walter,
That this macadam
Refuge
Is where
She’d likely
Find me.
“Listen,” she says sternly.
“Here’s what Tim
And I came up with.
Drake tried
To feel me up,
Then called me – you know – ”
(She can’t spit out
The hateful word)
“When I tried
To get loose.
You stepped in
To help
And got carried
Away.
Got it?”
She’s on the verge
Of tears now,
And as I stamp out
My Marlboro
With my sneaker
And take her
Into my arms,
Long lines
Of salty black mascara
Begin to run
Like liquefied tar
Down her cheeks.
“I got it,” I whisper,
Caressing her hair
And kissing
The side
Of her neck
In the secret spot
That’s so ticklish.
“I got it.”
I turn to Walter.
“The cops
On the way?”
He says no,
Because he
And Temple
And Tim
Have made it
Very clear
To Tripper
That Temple
Will press charges
For sexual assault
If he doesn’t keep
His pie-hole shut.
Three witnesses
Against one,
All of them
Honors students.
Even a sh**-for-brains
Like Tripper
Knows
That he’s been outplayed.My father
And Temple’s,
Both ferocious attorneys,
Threaten
Hellfire
And damnation
On the administration
And on Tripper
If this doesn’t
Go away.
Tripper’s anti-Semitic
Comment
Is passed on
To the Anti-Defamation League
By Temple’s dad,
And their representative
Argues
That while the group doesn’t
Support violence,
My response
Clearly came
In a school environment
That is far too tolerant
Of bigotry.I end up suspended
For four weeks,
But not expelled,
And no charges
Are brought
By either side.
I’m also
Kicked off
The fencing team,
But I kind of figured
That was a given.
I also
Have to attend
Anger-management classes
And do 50 hours
Of community service.
Doesn’t matter much,
I’m already
Into college
Early decision.
My old man’s pissed at me,
His default state
For the past
Four years,
But I have
To give him credit,
He had my back
In a pinch.The day I return
To the scene
Of the crime,
I find Acid-Addled Walter
And Temple
Waiting
By the school’s
Front doors,
And feel a pang
That I haven’t been
As good a friend
As I could’ve
And should’ve
Been
Since we met.
“Welcome back, Zorro,”
Grins Walter.
“S’up, Gator?” I reply.
I scoop up Temple
In a tight embrace
And we kiss,
But I can feel
Something different
In the movement
Of her lips,
And I sense
That something more
Than the bulletin board
Was broken
Four weeks ago.
“Talk later?” I whisper,
Making no attempt
To conceal
My unease.
“Later,” she says, “Alone.”
I nod,
And she slips
Out of the crisp March air
Into the building.I light a Marlboro,
And ask Walter
What people
Are saying.
“They think
You’re crazy,”
He says.
“A nutcase.”
I pause
To consider this,
Taking a long, slow drag.
“Well,” I finally murmur,
Breaking into a smile,
“Just as long
As it’s nothing untrue.”
-- Atticus
poster:Atticus
thread:380468
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/write/20040729/msgs/380468.html