Sol’s

19 May

we drove up half drunk half un-well
it was six-thirty in the morning
Stu was the cook and I washed dishes
the place was busy with three patrol cars
it was miserable and cold
Maryland in November is a bone-chilling son of a bitch
Sol had been robbed again
that’s it fellas he said
i can’t do this anymore
his wife was inside boarding up the place
he handed us two checks for the week
i’m sorry fellas he said
this goddamn country is cursed
it’s all right Stu said
we’ll find something else
i’m going back Sol said
i’m seventy five years of age
going back home
this…this fucking country…it’s cursed
Sol was an immigrant from Armenia
his father had been exterminated by the Turks
in 1915 in Constantinople
it’s all right Sol
we got back in and pulled onto the highway in the miserable rain
we should go somewhere and have a drink Stu said

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2 Responses to “Sol’s”

  1. Mare 19/05/2010 at 11:09 PM #

    “…half drunk half un-well.”

    Lovely.

  2. ~otto~ 21/05/2010 at 7:00 PM #

    Stu is right. Stu is right!

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