SHE WAS VERY THIN, gray, bent, and each day she
waited at the door of the
First Interstate Bank in San Pedro,
and as the people came and went she
approached them
one by one
and asked for money.
about 75% of the time
I respond to those who ask but with
the other 25% I am instantly put off
and just don\'t have the will to
give.
the frail old women at the bank put me off, she had
put me off for some time and we had a silent
understanding. I would lift my hand in a
gesture of protest and she would turn quickly
away. this had happened so often
that now she remembers and doesn\'t
approach me.
one noon I sat in m car and watched
her
and after 20 attempts she scored
17 times.
I drove off as she was approaching yet another
soft touch, and even so I
suddenly felt real guilt for my unfeeling habit of
refusing the old
girl.
later in the clubhouse at Hollywood
park
between the 6th and 7th races
I saw her again as she was going up the
aisle
frail and bent, a large wad of
paper money clutched tight in a bony hand
clearly on her way to
bet the next race.
of course, she had every right to be there,
to place her bets with the rest of us,
she only wanted and needed
what most people want and need:
a chance.
I watched as she
reached the top of the aisle and
I saw her stop and speak to a young man
who smiled and then
handed her
a bill.
not to be distracted I
rose and went to the betting window
to place my own
wager.
And, going back to my seat
as I was
walking down the aisle she ws
coming up and we saw one another
and without thinkingg
I held my hand up,
gently, in that familiar
gesture
she\'d seen so often
in front of the bank.
she looked at me with
unblinking blue eyes and said,
\"fuck you!\"
as we passed on the stairs.
she was right, of course, it\'s
a matter of survival-General Motors does
it, you do it, the cat does it,so
does the bird, nations do it,
families do it, I do it,
the boxer sometimes does it,
it\'s done when you
buy a oaf of bread, it\'s done sometimes
out of madness and fear, it\'s
done in the doctor\'s office and
in the back alley,
it\'s done everywhere
all the time
over and over again:
we all want to survive.
it is the inevitable way
the familiar way
the way things
work.
I went back to my seat to
to ponder all that
but I couldn\'t come up with anything useful at all.....
as the horses broke from the
gate
hustled by the crouching jocks
in their silks-
orange, blue, yellow, shocking pink,
green, chartreuse, a
stampeding rainbow of controlled
fury, the sun shot through the
screaming
and I suddenly knew that
we are all caught forever in the
self-same trap
and I instantly forgave that old
girl
for belonging.
Enjoy the day, courtesy of Charles Bukowski
Really enjoyed that.Thanks.--Jett