The idea was mine. “Nobody ever hits restaurants. Bars, liquor stores, gas stations, sure. Why not restaurants?”
Jacks, a burger and fish joint, but nice. I cased it good. Lots of cash transactions, not much staff. Right next to the culvert, so we could get away on the dirt bikes.
They closed at one, so fifteen minutes after I walked into the front, Davy into the back, shotguns ready. In and out.
But it didn’t go like that.
“That Mexican dishwasher is playing dumb,” Davy said. “You understand plenty good, you sonofabitch. ” And Davy shot him full in the chest.
Joe was head down at his desk, working away with his Barlow while the teacher’s back was turned.
It was amazing to see how the knife knew where to go, tracing the outlines of the face and making it seem to rise up out of the maple board. He glanced up. Mrs. Withers was still scratching away at the blackboard with her chalk.
Joe brushed away the shavings. It looked like his mother, or would if he could just get the eyes right. He bent close to study it.
“Joseph Bily!” Mrs. Withers slapped her ruler hard on the desk.
the way he explained it sounded easy.
another city another name
a fresh start away
no more of the snake eating its tail
billy, he don’t ask questions
too young I expect
to miss any of this
but the kid surprised me
with his memory
called us by our old name
more than once after I told him
he must never ever
he missed the old apartment
missed his old room and toy cars
I’ll get you new cars I said
better than those old ones
you can play all day and not even miss them