Page 139
By Jack Joseph Smith
His eyes looked back across the silhouette of
buildings; low standing; not yet torn down. It was his first
fear in this city; He had never worried before;
"there is always another bag!!"
It was topped rolled solid like a stick in his
hand.
He thought of
accidental birth.
"The Prankster will be underneath the Boat House,"
"it will be a laughing dark morning."
Underneath the beginning of a remodeled structure,
beneath the beams, between the poles; the Prankster
had organized a temporary home; He was happy to get
off Hart street; The young girls and electric music
had been giving him the dismissed blues.
Now though,
His work was directly above him.
This Prankster was in a
good place.