Thursday, December 04, 2008

Queretaro de Arteaga’s Butchery

The world ends and begins in Perpignan; life spilling out onto the floor, begirting astride the train station floor. The man in the hat awoke, his fingers pretzeled into hard salty knots. He reached for his pickpocket’s pocket comb, ‘….cheerio, cheer cheerio…’, drawing the pikes forward and back. Astir, he eased himself from abed, his hair combed to perfection, a Jerry Curl ducktailed to the base of his skull. He buttoned his favorite checkered shirt, purchased from the Bejel Linen Co., and fastened his fob round the loop of his trousers. ‘…goodness me, Bejel’s make a damn fine shirt…’. Stirring, he pulled on his favorite tan loafers, haggled from the boot of the Liepaja Stepbrothers (of Latvia) car, crisscrossing the laces taunt round the hook of his ankles. He lowered his favorite hat, a Corbusier Flatcar cap, onto his head, straightening the brim between his thumb and forefinger. Attired in checkered shirt, gray flannel trousers and cap, he stepped out into the sunshiny day. Squinting, he walked up the sideways, the blue sky bidding him a fine good day.

Today he would pay a visit to Querns’ Bakery, next door to Queretaro de Arteaga’s Butchery, to purchase a half-dozen of they’re mouth-watering jam scones. After which he would sit in the park behind the aqueduct and eat jam scones to his heart’s delight. Followed by a trip to the Waymart where word had it the harridan would be showing off her new silk stockings. The Wicklow brothers vended blackberry tarts from the back of a horse cart. The man in the hat crossed the sideways in search of a pint of fresh cream, his hat pulled down over the his ears. Seeing the Wicklow brothers clip-clopping down the sideways he waved them down to inquire if they sold fresh cream by the pint. A man who worked for Hamada System Tabriz Technology Company bought a pint of heavy cream. He lived in Tabriz Azerbaijani-e with his poleax father and a gibbering mother, the house too small for a dog or a cat. He rode his bicycle to work every morning, the Hamada System Tabriz Technology Company not taking kindly to fools, weaklings and lollygaggers. At exactly the same moment a man in who worked for the Chippenham Poleax Co. bought a pint of half-and-half. He lived in Los Distrito Federal Metropolitana with his gibbering father and poleax mother, the house too big for the three of them. At exactly the same moment a man who worked for the Derbyshire Creamery filled a pint bottle with heavy, heavy cream. He lived in Kildare Kildare with his poleax gibbering father and weakling mother, the house big enough for a dog, a cat and the three of them. The internist Dr. Salcedo sutured peoples’ wounds in his surgery on St. Bardot sur la Main.

No comments:

About Me

My photo
"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
Powered By Blogger

Blog Archive