I allowed myself to
be removed for a while. Long enough to know it wasn't short, but not
short enough to know how long. I didn't really care, though. I guess
I just lost track. You know it's good when you lose track.
Anyhow, Stephen
King was already in the bar by the time the show started. Musta been
a few songs into the set and B.B. King slowly saunters through the
doorway, and I'm surprised. It's somewhere where you don't expect the
two to meet, but it's true that sometimes those who you don't think
could ever get along become friends. Any way you slice the two first
and last names up, you get something that fits together, either way. Wouldn't have pictured it before, but now that you've seen it, you can. .
Time passes. By somewhere in the middle, I
could see the skin stretch. Like smiling but wider and much darker.
Stretched tighter. Burst. Bled.
Fresh wound. Fresh – fuckin' – nostalgic – wound. Porous
membrane exposed, it wasn't long before it was shred.
But
don't worry. The melody took a fine unwashed needle and a green
thread and stitched, so everything could clot the way it did.
You
fella's keep leavin' a mess like that, and someone's liable to
notice.
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