This looks like her:
She was pretty.
I told her, in short:
I once knew a guy named Jerry Mulligan who mostly skipped around the country, see, he was a country boy, knew a little about farming and small grains, knew how to rip the land, plant seed, but his first job like a more strenuous, on the clock off the clock, forty hour a week job was at the small town bar where everybody knew Jerry and he pretty much knew everybody else there, buying beers and shots for other men. He claimed he knew nothing about life or love, never having been married if you're playing that game, so he fell out of context but he knew nothing, except everybody kind of thought he did so everybody kept asking him what he knew, and maybe what was going on in Washington and why the world was such a shitty place and Jerry never answered because he told himself and everybody else he didn't know a danged thing. All I can do, he finally said to a few of the men, after years of questions and teasing that he was the smartest man in the world, is tell you a little bit bout the pictures in my head but that don't mean nothing to you all unless you can somehow remember em and piece em together but I'm doing just the opposite, trying to forget those little mental pictures and thoughts and hoping each time I take a swallow of whiskey the little fuckers go away.
No comments:
Post a Comment