A pack of outlaws witnesses a murder.
Monday, February 15, 2010 at 3:05PM A pack of outlaws witnesses a murder. from Christopher Gandin Le on Vimeo.
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I don’t know much about poetry and making things rhyme and all that.But I can tell you this is a true story. I’m in my usual spot down in Old Albuquerque. Dirty town, lotta poor Indians, Mexicans, White trash. I blended in well. Poor town, no real jobs anywhere. Lots of vagrants. But it beats the shit out of freezing up in Omaha.
I have a little work in my pocket, trying to wrap it up for the night.Got it off some stick-up kid for a damn bargain. Said he’d had it too long so it was a little stale. Little hell, this stuff flaked like pizza sprinkles.
Guy walks down the street – shady even for 2:30. I nod my head his way. “Work?”He shoves past me. Smells good, this guy. Clean. I figure him for a cop, so I step down the way. Watch him. He approaches this girl, self employed kinda woman. 16, maybe 17 years old. They talk a bit, sales pitch, negotiations, contract stuff.
She takes his hand – walks him down an alley. He looks back towards me – eyes in shadow under the streetlight.
Girl’s been here for a while I guess, longer than me. Few guys tried to strong-arm her into working with them. She has always declined. They leave her alone. She’s not pretty. Not at all. Looks like someone works in the packing department at the k-mart. Frizzy hair, bad skin. But she’s got this voice, this kinda deep voice that feels like you’re a little in trouble with someone older and stronger than you. We talked a few times, she gave me half a sandwich once. Said she was from Merced, said her parents got put away.
They were gone for a while. Long enough for me to sell off some of my stash. Long enough for my last two smokes, and a quick trip to the 7-11. Buy another pack of outlaw reds.
I come back, she’s not there. I try not to care through another cigarette. Fuck, down to the butt. Cross the street, down the ½ block. Stop at the alleyway. Some sounds – but not sex? I walk up the alley a bit. Faster pace. What am I doing here? Batman?
I see them, but I’m too late. See the hand pull back. Into the body. Again, in – and this sound. Not a squish. Slurp.The body falls, and she looks over at me. Gets her hand around his, pulls out the wallet. Slips off his watch. She stands up, is in front of my face. Knife at my belly. I’m still as I’ve ever been.
She asks with her eyes – I say – much cooler than I felt – “I didn’t see shit.”The knife leaves my shirt, and she was gone. I collapse against the wall, light a smoke. Look at the man. 5 minutes later, I am walking away – new pair of shoes.
Left Albuquerque the next morning.
So, don’t know how to end this. No, I never saw the girl again. No, I never got picked up for it or anything. Yes, I still have the shoes.
challenge001, spoken word in Challenge, Writing 
