Shooting through the potholes on division street heading into the setting sun
sky's all orange and black as it goes down
"Ashland sucks now that the k-martıs opened..... should have taken Elston"
always forget about that."
John shouts "watch out"
I stop suddenly
there's a man in the middle of the street
must have been some accident
We scramble out of the truck
I look around nobody else seems to notice him
guys hanging in front of Cut-Rate take no mind
Nobody over in front of Zakopane seems to know what happened
Antje shouts "is he ok".
I look back to the truck
"There's no blood"
The traffic on division is picking up
No cars are slowing down
Did anyone call 911
John try's to revive him with a few gentle slaps to the cheek
"Hey guy you o.k."
The guy is definitely knocked unconscious
He has on a heavy sweater and thick pants
looks like a Polish mason on his way home got creamed
John takes his shoulders I grab his ankles we gently move him out of the street
Antje pulls the truck to the side of the street
This guy is solid as stone
We drag his ass over the curb
Lay him out under a tree
" Hey guy you o.k."
His hands are filthier than mine, must be a worker on his way home.
"He has a pulse"
We sit him up against the tree trunk
"Hey guy you o.k."
Maybe we shouldn't have moved him
The shadow from the street light is casting dark speckles all over his face
he moves his leg a little
we get excited thinking that he'll soon become coherent
he belches out a foul stank at us
"aw jeez heıs tanked on zimne piwo"
"this guy's really plowed, can't even make it across the street without passing out"
we leave feeling sorry for the loser
hoping it wonıt ever happen to us

Pete Moorman