Cemetery Street

"Where you takin' that ass of yo's?" Russell said.

"Home, I live by the Cemetery."

"Yeah you do and the Cemetery be the other way," Russell pointed up Cemetery Street.

"You sure?"

"Sure as Clinton is a Democrat and Bush is something I wanna eat."

"Huh?"

Russell chuckled as he relit his cigar. The tip glowed in the dark. With the finesse of a connoisseur he exhaled into the night. Cigar smoke curled skyward. "It's up the hill boy."

"Yeah but, there's Lucas's. Lucas's has to be close to the cemetery. My house has to be that way."

"Do me this favor and trust crazy ole Russell, he knows where he's going this time." I watched him from the middle of the crosswalk as he tapped his way onto the sidewalk. "You coming or do I have to get butterfly to pick you up?" he called, his back to me.

I floundered after him. We walked in silence. At the old Piano factory I said," You know she blames me for his death?"

"Who blames you for whose death?" Russell asked.

"Flossy blames me for Count."

"That's the plum craziest thing I heard all night. That's nuttier than you thinking up is down and all.

"It's true," I paused. The familiar purr of Shannie's GTI sauntered down Bainbridge Street. I watched the turn signal click off as she eased Saphix towards home.

"Yeah, she's something else," Russell said nodding towards the Volkswagen. "She's my girl, the apple of my eye." Russell chuckled. "I can't believe I still crack myself up. I'm the funniest man I know. Apple of my eye, I'm blind," he said as if his blindness was breaking news. Shannie's break lights flashed before going dark. I caught glimpse of her under the street light before she slipped into the night.