Small Paul Loves Winter Girl
the sun a hammering fist> the heat an ax shredding the air> cleaves everything in the City human animal vegetable & mineral> the fiercest flames that ever were> everything wilts & withers> in the hills surrounding the City forests burn>
smoke choking
& cloying
the fires
sun
evil
everywhere>
Dalvir Singh in a blue turban stands behind the counter> he sweats profusely as he makes change for a fatman buying Little Debbie Swiss Rolls> he is sure the man is about to ask the q/ that of all q/s Dalvir Singh hates the most> in response he will shout it is you you fat bald man w/ yr/ fat eyes & yr/ fat fingers anxious to rip open that pack of Little Debbies it is you sweating through yr/ foul clothing it is you who should be wearing a turban you who should be wearing one to hide that expanse of mottled flesh you call a scalp>
no no no this is wrong> yelling is not the correct path>
the fatman looks at Dalvir Singhs turban & Dalvir Singh believes the fatmans lips are beginning to form that q/ but then the fatman just pockets his change w/out asking the q/ & he shuffles away to whatever tenement fat sweating stupid bald men live in>
so Dalvir Singh does not shout>
he is relieved>
then a small boy enters a small boy w/ a vivid birthmark covering half his face he shuffles over to the shelf of candybars> the birthmark reminds Dalvir Singh of an ancient map of the world> this does not indicate a lack of empathy on Dalvir Singhs part> Dalvir Singh is a moral man he is pledged to respect everyone pledged to see the good aspect in all> he meditates on this every day> the boy is scrawny & dirty> he must be Dalvir Singh thinks one of the boys & girls who live in the ruins> they take over the countless once decent buildings squat there> Dalvir Singh has sympathy for them what a way to live> which is not to say Dalvir Singh does not see the potential of sinking into similar circumstances in this City of fire & disease & death everyone sinks eventually>
but now Dalvir Singh watches as the boys scrawny hand creeps toward the candybars> the creeping ends & the selected candybar disappears into the boys pocket>
the boy runs out of the shop>
Dalvir Singh is mortified & astounded>
thievery! suddenly he finds himself consumed by rage a rage that has lain dormant all these years of the Citys decline> this krodh this rage arises fr/ something deep w/in him throbs in his veins> this happens to all of us at one time or the other & blinds us> Dalvir Singh knows this is wrong rage is one of the Five Thieves> Dalvir Singh makes a mighty effort to calm himself> oh lord useless to chase useless to burn up in the sun of this unholy land> but sometimes the Five Thieves cannot be subdued this is what this fiery country has accomplished at last> & so Dalvir Singh finds himself drawing fr/ beneath the counter a pistol> a necessary accoutrement these days even for a man of peace his friend urged until he gave in>
he begins blasting away
bullets spraying wildly like a
hot blizzard striking bricks
of a tenement across the street
shattering windows sending
glass shards flying>
oh what wild gorgeous jewels
they are in the unbearable sun
as they search
for a victim>