I live in a rainforest, though it's not obviously a rainforest because most of the trees are cut down and there's a city in place instead. But it is a rainforest nonetheless, a place of blistering rainstorms, cloth-ripping wind storms, near daily torrential rain storms. All things are subject to rapid rot or rust. Seldom does a day end without some climatic misery visited upon us here. But recently I had a fine evening, a warm and calm few hours in an otherwise brutal onslaught driving down from dark and angry skies. Pleasant.
I tramped through the usual clot of junkies huddled under the viaduct, skeletal addicts jabbing and poking their bones in search of a living vein under yellowed, scabrous skin, an uncollapsed vein being the life-line to heroin heaven. A pleasant evening, and I went on to the diner for an evening out. There I sat out at a table alone, quiet and content, with my book on terrorism and my mild and happy thoughts, idly crushing a bug that crawled across my page, wiping away the stain with a napkin, and reading on.
I was only momentarily distracted by one of the regular pests, Jack, a junky I'd just seen moments before shooting dope, came over table to table demanding money from those sitting, talking, laughing, eating with family and friends, Jack demanding money for food, "For something to eat, man, I haven't eaten all day, man," and his hand darting out to grab a scoop of something from the plate in front of a tattooed girl in a green lame miniskirt, her food suddenly stuffed into Jack's maw, Jack turning to run-- straight into tattoo girl's guy.
Guy's fist, connected to his wrist, connected to his forearm, connected to his elbow, connected to his biceps, connected to his shoulder, connected with Jack's jaw. Jack folded.
Rising like a vapour over a swamp, he engulfed Jack, knuckles coming down like lightning, the blow the thunder, the blood the rain: a storm of breaking.
When the police arrived I came outside and cheerily said to them, "Hey, what's happening here?" They said have a nice evening. I did. The ambulance pulled away slowly. Tomorrow will come. What's the hurry?
There is now a lull. The nature of things? Nasty weather a'comin'.