Thrust
“Hands out, snapping his powerful fingers softly, so that they whispered along with him. Get behind me fear. Get the gum drum behind me, black man without dem hang thang! Wear not the pirate togs of linen on your way to heaven. These are the drapings of hell. Forward, forward forever against the steel cage of Triboro. O George! O Jeff! Where are thy loving ministrations?
Chase wasn't the only one coming a bit unglued. Isaac's injuries had outraged and scared Shake, and thrown him off his own game. It could happen to you, when this kind of affront reached into your own comfortable sphere.
The room was filled with flowers and gifts, three vases of tulips and irises lining the sill. A foot-high stack of books sat on the night stand. Conrad Rice had sent a porta-potty and signed it on the plastic lid in black marker: The more you toot, the better you feel! Get well soon! A can of beans, a bottle of castor oil, and his latest chapbook peered out from beneath the foam seat.
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