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I
remember
hot
,
still
electric-storm
afternoons
when
jackrabbits
ran
under
Diesel
truck
wheels
.
Joey
Fish-in-a-Barrel
has
twenty
thousand
dollars
and
three
Cadillacs
since
the
contract
.
And
he
ca
n't
drive
none
of
'
em
.
I
see
a
dice
.
I
see
it
from
the
inside
,
me
at
the
bottom
.
I
'm
the
weight
,
loading
the
dice
to
throw
that
number
one
up
there
above
me
.
They
got
the
dice
loaded
to
throw
a
snake
eyes
,
and
I
'm
the
load
,
six
lumps
around
me
like
white
pillows
is
the
other
side
of
the
dice
,
the
number
six
that
will
always
be
down
when
he
throws
.
What
's
the
other
dice
loaded
for
?
I
bet
it
's
loaded
to
throw
one
too
.
Snake
eyes
.
They
're
shooting
with
crookies
against
him
,
and
I
'm
the
load
.
Look
out
,
here
comes
a
toss
.
Ay
,
lady
,
the
smokehouse
is
empty
and
baby
needs
a
new
pair
of
opera
pumps
.
Comin
'
at
ya
.
Faw
!
Crapped
out
.
Water
.
I
'm
lying
in
a
puddle
.
Snake
eyes
.
Caught
him
again
.
I
see
that
number
one
up
above
me
:
he
ca
n't
whip
frozen
dice
behind
the
feedstore
in
an
alley
--
in
Portland
.
The
alley
is
a
tunnel
it
's
cold
because
the
sun
is
late
afternoon
.
Let
me
...
go
see
Grandma
.
Please
,
Mama
.
