asked and answered
July 23, 2007 § 2 Comments
Calling the Kettle Black
Tank top and shorts it was hot as hell he had no hair by choice metal studs through his scant eyebrows eyes that didn’t dart but didn’t look either tattoos like brands on his arms good ink well done and on his calves under calf length white socks.
He twittered ducked rather than shrugged and looked to his boss who laughed more than giggled but just the same, when I asked “what do the tattoos on your legs say?” gave the side slide nod. “White pride,” he shrugged now. “I did it before. That’s why I cover them up…don’t want to go to jail,” he mumbled.
Young now. Young when he did it. Probably in jail. Done and undone, neither at his behest. Forgive him father for he knows not what he is doing.
We talked a lot after they left. Kept the doors open wide not only to dry the carpets they’d just cleaned. Paul adamant they couldn’t return. And my being a Yid notwithstanding needing some steps in between–to speak up; standing for notwithstanding–his pride our belief in difference, neither were self-evident.