Chan

the fewtch

I knew it was

him before I

saw him before

I even heard him

because I'd just been

thinking about him.

And there he was,

coming across the bus

parking lot like the

lazy side of a triangle,

feet without sound

tropical voice frozen.

I'd borrowed money

from him years ago.

I needed drugs and he was a criminal

so I asked him if I could

borrow some money.

He was the most dangerous child

I knew and I'd thought about

him many times since then.

I'd thought about him asking

for his money back.

I said hi and kept walking

walking towards the mall

and he told me not to worry

about the money, that the Chinese

he worked for didn't want it

back but something told me

I was dead now, soon dead.

Where was he from?

I used to know.

Cambodia?

He was from someplace dangerous.

Someplace very dangerous where

they didn't have blonde girls and I

knew this because blonde girls drove

him crazy.

Indonesia?

Dark skin like the fur of a dark brown dog.

His clothes were too big for him

and his shoes were red white and dirty.

He must have it all squirreled away

somewhere, I thought. 

He could tell I was scared and I

was scared of him and I thought

back to needing drugs and how

I never planned on paying him back

because I'd forget about everything

and everyone forgets about everything.

I smelled noodle on him and

offered to buy him some lunch

and we walked around in the mall

almost past the escalator to the

restaurant but then up the escalator

because he saw food court neon

at the top.

We had a slice of pizza together

and he wanted to know about

the Turk and I told him about how

the Turk was selling cars now and

maybe was some sort of radical but

then stopped because I still didn't

know where he was from.

I couldn't remember where he was

from.  Some dangerous place.

He told me about clubs and p***y

for awhile and I don't go to clubs

and not that kind of p***y.

The Turk had told me, years ago,

that he'd seen him on a bus covered

in gold and that he was wanted.

I'd come to the mall

because I needed new pants

but instead I left the mall

with him.

Back on the bus

I wondered if they'd

ever sold any of those

jungle birds they had

at the pet store in there.

Reviews

[.]

Very intriguing and felt as if I was reading prose Loved it

[luna rose]

This is one of my favorites thus far, I think. I agree that it is vignetted to the degree of which it could fit neatly into... say... a novel? Maybe even a short story. This Eastern man-fella is an interesting focal point & I really dig how you illuminate him through the lens of Western eyes, aka his shoes being "red white and dirty" (assuming that's a play on "red, white, and blue"). That line is brilliant.

Again, the Turk, the Asian, the Western narrator... all could make for an interesting short story. I get Neo Beatnik vibes.

Awesome overall. I enjoyed.

[Ashley]

Seems more like you want to write a story

[The Twin Arenas]

yeah maybe although it came to me not as prose, or in a story. came on like a sweat.

[marcus]

I love it...awesome! think it's vietnam

[Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere]

Very good writing, a sort of storytelling, rapping a bit, fast telling, images coming and flying, very well done. :) Rudi

[Cheyenne Williams]

I feel like this is different than your usual stuff. Different in a good way. But it still reads like your work. I dig it.

[ANTO]

I cant say why I like this Wac, but I did. i could have gladly read on. It was like one of those docusoaps - like the Office, to me anyway. You dont know why you're watching but you're afraid of missing something - kind of voyeuristic I spose. Cool writing here. The last stanza is class, i feel. When I see "fewtch" it reminds me of Kanye West lol.

[The Twin Arenas]

Kanye West and I have a lot in common. Thanks for the read, ANTO.

[ANTO]

My pleasure my friend. :))