Good Night

I woke up early with a headache about five in the afternoon. The sky was dark, oh man was it dark, and the rain fell down before you knew it was gathered at your feet. “Early?” you might say. Yeah, it was early, it was still the man's hour and it was still time for laying low and things were slow but fluid. That's how things were in the man's world, slow and fluid, like water pouring into the gaping mouth of a bay. That's how things worked in the man's hour, and things ebbed and things flowed but they never quite stayed still and they never quite got anywhere in particular.1

'2

I woke up early, but I knew this was my night. I knew it because I found a dime-bag in my coat pocket when I woke up and I couldn't remember where it came from, so I chalked it up as evidence of God and I took it in. It felt good, baby, real good, and I was good, so good, and I knew that this was my night. I was good and I leaned out the window to feel the chill touch me so I knew I wasn't dreamin, because when you feel this good you very well might be.3

I tugged on my tattered coat and laced up my sole-less shoes and I walked out of my hole in the wall and I walked out onto the street, during the man's hour mind you, and I shielded my eyes from the glare of the street lights off of all the polished briefcases. I stood in the middle of the corporate world and I lit up a cigarette. I blew it in some guy's face as he marched past. The guy looks at me, shakes his head, and walks on. Guppies, I tell ya, no mind of their own.4

So I bum around town on this particular Friday evening and there's plenty to do. It's the start of the weekend and that means a lot of tourists' pockets to excavate and a lot of dirty jazz. The dirty jazz was always the best, loud and emotional, repulsive but free, it made for a wonderful evening. The weekend meant free trolleys to anywhere in town, it meant not freezing your ass off when you had ten blocks to go to get a decent drink.5

In fact, this is how I found myself on those trolleys this particular Friday, heading down to my favorite bar on West and 3rd. It was a classy joint with good music and a festive atmosphere, but man could they take your wallet and make it empty. That's why I always snuck behind the bar when the 'tender wasn't looking and stole a bottle to take out to the back alley.6

This evening it was Wild Turkey and I stepped out back to enjoy a few sips when I remembered why this was my night. Tonight I had a meeting with the man and I knew how it was gonna go down because I was good tonight, boy, let me tell you I was good. Anyways, I decided I shouldn't get too good before the meeting and I only had a few shots of that bottled up goodness. I took two shots or three, or four, or five, or six, or seven, or eight and I was feeling good, real good.7

I was ready so I stepped inside and I saw him sitting at a corner booth, staring somberly over the bar as if the sight of the place made him wish we were never allowed to exist. I stuffed the bottle inside my coat and sauntered on over to where he was sitting. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and then turned back towards the bar. He looked right past me as I walked up and sat down across from him. I swear we would have sat there for a hundred years if I wasn't feeling so good and ready to give him what for.8

The music was loud but I think he heard me and I said, “So what's this all about, daddy?”9

He turned to me confusedly and pulled a folder out of his briefcase. He looked at me and he looked at the folder and he looked at me and he looked at the bar and he said, “You're the guy I'm supposed to see?”10

But I didn't hear him because the music was loud and it was good and I was good and I told him to order me a drink and then he knew I was the one. He ordered me a Jack and Coke.11

We sat there in silence while the waitress brought the drinks, him staring at me coldly and me dancing to the rhythm. I just couldn't stop, I was too good, but he slammed his hands on the table and stared me in the eye and said, “Can we get this thing on the go, I've got a family waiting for me.”12

“Calm down, big shot,” I said snapping my fingers. “Don't ruin this song, don't you dare ruin this song, it was one of Ellington's best.”13

The drinks were served and I caught glimpse of the bottom of my glass before the song was over.14

He checked his watch and leaned over the table and told me forcefully, “We need to talk about what you're doing.”15

“I'm not doin nothin, big guy, just keepin the rhythm,” I told him as the next song started up and I started my dancing.16

He leaned back, defeated. “What's wrong with you?” he asked.17

I stopped dancing and I turned to him and I knew it was time to get serious because I was good, at least tonight I was good, so I knew that it was time to get serious. I said to him, “I'm sick, nothing else to it.”18

“Well, perhaps,” he started, “ Getting involved in our thriving society will cure that. Maybe you should get a job.” But I knew this was coming, I could just tell this was coming, and I knew what to say, I tell you I was that good that I knew what to say.19

I say to him, “Ain't no job gonna cure my affliction, fella,” and I light up a cigarette and I hack violently like I knew I would and then I just kind of sit there and smile at him smugly because I'm not going to lose, not tonight.20

Then he sees the track marks and he sees the gloss in my eye and he sees the twitch in my speech and then he knows and he sits back and he sighs. Now here comes the kicker, the real kicker, just then he yelped out, “Smoke em if you got em,” and he reaches in his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes. He lights up and leans back over the table and gives me the same look, that motherfucker, the same goddamn smug look.21

Then I ask him to order another drink because I'm good tonight, baby, but I'm not that good, and it always pays to be better. He orders the shots and we both sit in silence, but I'm sweatin now and he's tappin his foot and the bar is comin alive and he's gettin into it, I mean really gettin into it.22

The drinks come and I drink it down and it feels good and I know I'm good and now I'm better than him and now I'm as good as I've ever been and as good as I'll ever want to be and I just flat out say to him, “Look here, you're not gonna get me to go along with your tricks.”23

His foot kinda stops tappin then and he looks at the bar and he says some sick shit, some really fucked up shit, when he says, “Most of em say the same thing and they're all having fun.”24

Then I blurt out things about capitalism and things I don't know about and he's25

interested now because he's got his head in his hands leaning over the table and watching my lips, but his foot's still tappin and his voice is still strong when he cuts me off and says, “Look, here's the deal.”26

Then he re-positions himself like he needs to get good and comfy and that I need to get good and comfy and he says flat out, “You give us ten years of enslavement and afterwards your a free man.”27

But I don't buy into his bullshit and I blurt out, “You give me thirty minutes of service under this table and you'll go home to your wife a free man.” But he doesn't understand this and I know he won't understand this when I say it but it's the kind of thing that I must tell him because I know that somewhere under his suit he knows that it's the truth.28

At least I got his goddamn foot to stop tappin and he looks at me with the smirk wiped off his face, he looks at me stone cold and he says, “The offer stands.” He grabs his jacket and his briefcase and he shoves my folder into it and he stands up and suddenly I see why he's leaving and I see what he sees and I see tThe world is happening around us and the world is rotating through the solar system and the sun is rising and people are going about their responsibilities and in the end it is just me and him at this table so I must get him to sit down.29

“What makes you so sure I'll accept?” I ask him grabbing at his hand and pulling him back towards his seat.30

“Because in the end it won't matter,” he says sitting back and swirling the ice in his glass. Then I knew that he knew that I had seen it and that the world was still happening and that I wouldn't matter in the end. But I was good tonight, boy, I was damn good and I knew just what to say and just what needed to be done. So I grab my coat and I hand him a smoke and I take him by the shoulder and he leads me out to the back alley. I stop him just short of the dumpster and I hand him the Wild Turkey because I want him to be good for what I'm about to do.31

We walk around the block and I get to the place and he looks a little wary, but I know he'll come up with me. We walk into the apartment complex and up the stairs sunk so low you could swear they touched the ground and we walk down the hallways layered with filth upon filth upon filth because this is where everything stands still, baby. I knock on the door and I swear a layer of dust falls off.32

I walk in and I buy another dime-bag and I shake hands with the candy man and then we are through. When we get out on the street, I take the man's shoulder again. He leads me to the subway and from there I take him to my hole in the wall. When we get there, we sit down and we get good and I mean he's real good now, I make sure of it.33

I look at him and he has cracked, dry lips and he looks at me and he takes a big gulp to get all the goodness down and then he licks his lips and says, “I see it now.”34

“See what?” I says because now I'm beyond good and I'm feeling like everything is fading away and fading away and fading away and there's nothing to hold on to but the memory of how good I was tonight.35

But he's not done, he's got a little left, and he says, “The world stands still.”36

“Sometimes,” I say, but there's darkness now and it doesn't matter because I'm good, tonight I was good.