ustxtxb_obs_2000_12_22_50_00027-00000_000.pdf

‘…another superior work that could also he a Grammy’ contender: 1 , iiir :::: LA. Tintes —.._.:-.”Grade: A” Entertammeni 4-1 dAly -, featuriq ,siiecial guests4ti r 1 VT and Merle Haggard* andUnI covers of tyonAligckDowiiidli Also Available: “Unchained” “American Recordings” “Vii-Storytellers” with Willie Nelson -Tom Pctr,cppitats aratteirit Itttxtrol ir/ c 200 The TrAO:le SO TRACKS INCLUDING Wint nwinnecitt it ‘ y APO A-CDARIA11, MainsttmpluBon, Likiliolino noskinAnlicamme. and lierione. MUDS -1111111 OURS WWW. .Ld 5 HIM UL Pal. Igt U %BO Emy MIME; intvtakceroin 63s. knees and black shoes, a flowery scarf over her head, both quiet and solemn. A dude with tattoos on the back of his hand, missing two fingers, and up his wrists and on his neck and after she went in, saying nothing to him, this dude would start to talk to him. How this wasn’t the first time he had to do this. How cold it was but you gotta smoke, how can you not smoke at least a cigarette, gotta go outside and not sit in there the whole goddamn time. Flocked stencils on the window outside of sleigh bells and stars and Santa and Rudolph the Reindeer. This dude would stand around with a strut even when he wasn’t pacing, scanning, alert. This dude would be talking how where he came up, how when he came up, bragging and ashamed, how he didn’t like being locked up but shit man, his baby, she’s hard, and he’s trying, he is trying to please the woman, don’t you think he’s trying to please the woman, chief? He’s sure it’s probably his. She wanted him to go here. with her. She wanted me to. Like you, right, chief? She was so tall she looked across at him directly in the eyes and she thumped her big chest right into his. She liked his cowboy boots. Said she liked his worn black jeans and that he was wearing that ordinary sweater. She put her palms against the sweater, pressing. She was drunk. She liked cowboys, or Indians. Or was he Latin? She liked him, she whispered, groping his arms. Her gray eyes were diamonds, her hair a gold fiber, she was as real as a magazine cover-girl, a makeup or underwear or negligee ad. If he was not drunk, if he was not stoned, then what? She told him about Memphis. She’d lived in Memphis most of her life except when she’d lived in San Antonio and Germany. She loved San Antonio and missed it. She asked, Do you believe me, dollboy? He felt the heat of the whispered word “dollboy” as it struck his cheeks, lipstick ad plump lips smearing him until she shoved her tongue into his mouth. Her girlfriends were laughing at her and when she stopped, she laughed overdramatically with them. Come on! she told him, and she held his hand staggering out of Elaine’s restaurant and they were in the back of a cab. Her legs were across his lap and she pulled his hand under her coat and blouse DECEMBER 22, 2000 THE TEXAS OBSERVER 27