ONE NIGHT
C Ra McGuirt
all i wanted was another quart of beer, so i waited until the commercial
left without locking the door,&took off to the store about a minute away
in my dead grandad's car. behind the local convenience glass, 2 men
were polishing the floor with some sort of cybernetic apparatus,
& they gestured that the place was closed, so i headed down to the other
store on the corner. it was brightly lighted, but when i tried, their door
was locked as well. a frightened-looking young black girl (i mean, african-
american young woman) motioned to the airlock (you know, the sliding thing
they have like at the bank to keep from getting shot). 'i need a quart of
busch, please ma'am,' i said, putting 2 bucks in the tray. 'damn, are ya'll
locked up already? you know, it's not even ten o'clock...' the young woman
rolled her eyes&said: 'people who wanna rob you don't care what time it is.'
she went off&rummaged in the cooler as a middle-aged white lady in a nice
white coat came from her nice car to buy some gas. 'how you tonight, ma'am?'
i asked of her, perfectly aware just how much i look like a serial killer
even after the haircut. i was tempted to say something jaunty, like:
'isn't it funny that they've figured out how to quit getting killed by us,
but they still haven't found a way to keep us from killing each other
in the parking lot?' instead, i asked: 'heard any more about snow?'
the young black woman came back to tell me they were out of busch.
i said i'd take a quart of bud. the nice white lady said:
'no, but you know how THEY are...' 'oh yeah,' i said,&we both laughed
entirely at the expense of all the he expensive meterologists. we talked
a bit&said that snow was overdue,&a little might be nice,
like maybe the dusting we got on christmas day in '89. 'anything but ice!'
she prayed,&i echoed her prayer as i finally got my beer
& drove cautiously back through the weirdly warm
january rain.
i came through the unlocked door&was immediately attacked
