Wednesday, March 18, 2009

My favorite alley

And then I’m in my favorite alley -- Cosmo, remember? I guess it’s not as dark in the back corner as I thought, you would still be able to see people if they were having sex. I stand back there to piss in the dirt, and as I’m walking away a silver sedan drives up, my first thought is undercover cops, window opening in the rain and they’re looking out at me, my second thought is I’m going to get jumped, what am I doing in the only dark alley in the neighborhood and they came in right after me, right? Last time I walked through here, a cop drove right behind me, but that one was marked. But the time before was when I sucked that guy’s cock.

The guy on my side of the car is younger, almost cute if bashers can be cute he says hey bro. The one next to him is the more standard huge guy with a mustache. I can sense something about to crack on my head. Hello, I say, in my casual voice that I guess usually comes up when I’m having sex, hullo instead of the queenier, more emphatic hello or even the simple but more formal hello. He says hey bro, do you know where I can get some meth?

I laugh in spite of the threat of violence, in spite of my casual act in my sofa tapestry coat I don’t want them to know I know they’re undercover cops, but I laugh anyway, and then no with an exclamation mark. They drive off, I exit the alley and I’m glad they didn’t ask any more questions, like do you know where I could find some? And then what if I said go over to Polk Street, and they jumped right out and snatched me up? The problem with a set-up is that anything you do can set you up. Maybe Cosmo isn’t my favorite alley anymore.

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