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One, Two |
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Maybe his hand shook. Maybe he remembered a clause from his wife's goodbye. Maybe everything he held in Europe had more sensitivity in the states. Maybe his mother's side had poor grip. Jonas pulled a signal gun's trigger early. Mis-starts happen in sports arenas or colossal venues, or dreams where seventeen swimmers dive to water and race halfway down a lap pool of jello, and stop when they've realized one of them anticipated, fell, died, or got hungry. In the alley behind the Food Mart, Jonas shot a twenty-two before Alysoun said, "Three!" and Michael, Simon, and Janey raced halfway down the block before a turn to see Alysoun on top of Jonas, her arms laying him out; Alysoun: this half Pennsylvania-Dutch black girl who knew how to take a smack; who married two men since high-school; who found a dead guy. |
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