What you are seeing are just the bits out of a bigger thing, like when you and your best friend go through the trash behind the Ebb Tide Motel and find the instant camera pictures of naked people doing naked-people things, except when they get ready to go home from vacation they rip up all the naked pictures into the little bits you and your best friend find pieces of, hardly ever enough to put together, except for that one you don’t even show your brother, the one of that fat lady with the scary titties, and how you keep one titty scrap and your best friend keeps the other, him also keeping the knees but you keeping what is real excellent scary, her happy face, you can see how funny she thought her vacation was with scary titties and sunburn.
So on the Rocket Sling you are seeing these littlepieces of the put-together picture so that when the ride really gets excellent spinning fast, mostly what you see are the spinning smears of the bulbs burning bright, and like ripped scraps, sometimes maybe you see the shoes of the breakable-armed man and sometimes maybe you see a far summer star, all the time smelling Train Wreck breath and coffee breath and breeze off the ocean ink where it’s deep black night and scary because you can still look up and see the two rusted bolts that hold your rocket on and you think the bolts might break and you are going to fly right off the rocket ride arm, you are going to be slung right out of the park way out in the ink, all strapped down and locked in, to blub-blub sink without no one’s reach, where nobody could ever possibly find you. That’s the real excellent scary part, that feeling, and that feeling won’t come if the lady from next door is there and your mom won’t ride the ride, because what brings on that feeling most is when your mom rides wedged in tight with you and your brother on nights like this, when your mom will scream the excellent scream, the scream that people you see in snatches on the boardwalk stop and stare for, the scream that stops the ride next door, the scream that tells us to our hearts the bolts have finally broken.
My brother and I have been having off from school. Our mom won’t let us go because of my black eye. Itook it like a Duke McQuaid. I like to look at myself in the mirror and then spit in the sink like it ain’t nothing to it at all.
We are at home alone so when we see the lady next door going up her walk my brother and I put our mouths up to the window shade and yell, Nosy Bitch! Then we lay down on the company sofa we’re not allowed on and laugh. Our dad has said that Nosy Bitch was the one who called our school. They took us in the sick room and asked us was everything all right at home, did we tend to fall down and hurt ourselves. I told them our dad can beat up whoever he wants to. Nosy Bitch!
About an hour later that Nosy Bitch comes knocking at the back door while we’re watching TV. We crawl in the cave behind the company sofa while the TV plays all the way up so I know she can hear it and I don’t go to the door. I ain’t coming out to face a rope around my neck, Nosy Bitch, you’ll have to break down the door and shoot your way in. But she keeps tapping the glass like I know she won’t go away until I go see, so I get up and go down the hall touching all the cousin pictures and then I make sure the toilet isn’t running where my brother had been in there for about an hour and I take long linoleum slides in my socks across the kitchen floor and still I see her shadow on the curtain in back. It could be the shadow of a man with a loaf of bread under his arm.
It’s just another bag of those green apples she’sbrought us and a book of Jesus homework for our mom. She asks me, Is she here? and I say, Nah, she ain’t here, and she says, Well, tell her I came by, and then before she leaves she looks over my head into the kitchen like she’d like to nose around in there so I close the door and watch her go back in her house
So on the Rocket Sling you are seeing these littlepieces of the put-together picture so that when the ride really gets excellent spinning fast, mostly what you see are the spinning smears of the bulbs burning bright, and like ripped scraps, sometimes maybe you see the shoes of the breakable-armed man and sometimes maybe you see a far summer star, all the time smelling Train Wreck breath and coffee breath and breeze off the ocean ink where it’s deep black night and scary because you can still look up and see the two rusted bolts that hold your rocket on and you think the bolts might break and you are going to fly right off the rocket ride arm, you are going to be slung right out of the park way out in the ink, all strapped down and locked in, to blub-blub sink without no one’s reach, where nobody could ever possibly find you. That’s the real excellent scary part, that feeling, and that feeling won’t come if the lady from next door is there and your mom won’t ride the ride, because what brings on that feeling most is when your mom rides wedged in tight with you and your brother on nights like this, when your mom will scream the excellent scream, the scream that people you see in snatches on the boardwalk stop and stare for, the scream that stops the ride next door, the scream that tells us to our hearts the bolts have finally broken.
My brother and I have been having off from school. Our mom won’t let us go because of my black eye. Itook it like a Duke McQuaid. I like to look at myself in the mirror and then spit in the sink like it ain’t nothing to it at all.
We are at home alone so when we see the lady next door going up her walk my brother and I put our mouths up to the window shade and yell, Nosy Bitch! Then we lay down on the company sofa we’re not allowed on and laugh. Our dad has said that Nosy Bitch was the one who called our school. They took us in the sick room and asked us was everything all right at home, did we tend to fall down and hurt ourselves. I told them our dad can beat up whoever he wants to. Nosy Bitch!
About an hour later that Nosy Bitch comes knocking at the back door while we’re watching TV. We crawl in the cave behind the company sofa while the TV plays all the way up so I know she can hear it and I don’t go to the door. I ain’t coming out to face a rope around my neck, Nosy Bitch, you’ll have to break down the door and shoot your way in. But she keeps tapping the glass like I know she won’t go away until I go see, so I get up and go down the hall touching all the cousin pictures and then I make sure the toilet isn’t running where my brother had been in there for about an hour and I take long linoleum slides in my socks across the kitchen floor and still I see her shadow on the curtain in back. It could be the shadow of a man with a loaf of bread under his arm.
It’s just another bag of those green apples she’sbrought us and a book of Jesus homework for our mom. She asks me, Is she here? and I say, Nah, she ain’t here, and she says, Well, tell her I came by, and then before she leaves she looks over my head into the kitchen like she’d like to nose around in there so I close the door and watch her go back in her house
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