Gray and rain. Wet black asphalt, parked dark car, glowing sign in cleaners' window: same day service. Like in Oceanside--the pier in winter, fog, sound of waves below, feel of the swells. $5 a Pay Day--that was it. Sales to young marines--Camp Pendleton--arrived from Philly, Iowa, Kankakee--en route to a shaved head and God knows where. Knife fight--just the tip of the blade. "That's all I need," explained a barrel-shouldered sargeant. "That's all you need." Careful stacks of shirts, pinned and folded, plywood counters, worn and varnished... Walters, not even our name. Something received, ad hoc, but serious in its own way. Banks of fluorescent panels above, linoleum floor, long desk at back--the register. Always standing--an unwritten rule. Just $5 a Pay Day...
No comments:
Post a Comment