Me: How's it going?
Jeff: Slowly but surely to hell.
Me: Nice to meet you. I'm Nate.
Jeff: Jeff. Nice to meet you, Boss.
Jeff: You ever wonder 'bout the end of the world?
Me: Some dude told me it'll end with a whimper and not a bang. That's about all I think about it.
Jeff: Nothing good ends with a whimper.
Me: Yeah. I guess.
Jeff: The end of the world wouldn't be good.
Me: True.
Jeff: So that dude made sense. Who said that?
Me: TS Eliot.
Jeff: He live around here?
Me: He don't live anywhere. He's dead.
Jeff: How'd you know him?
Me: I didn't.
Jeff: When did he tell you that?
Me: I read it in a book a few years ago.
Jeff: You told me he told you that.
Me: It's the same thing.
Jeff: I'm sure it is? In Big Fat Liar Land.
Me: Calm down.
Jeff: Sinner.
Jeff: I read books sometimes.
Me: Uh huh.
Jeff: You read books?
Me: Uh huh.
Jeff: What'd that TS guy write?
Me: Poetry.
Jeff: That's for pussies.
Jeff: I never read no poetry.
Me: Not even in school?
Jeff: In high school, we had to write a paper about that guy who went by a house on snowy night. That sucked.
Me: That was Frost.
Jeff: No dude. I'm pretty sure it was snow.
Me: How long you lived here?
Jeff: Three months.
Me: Where you from?
Jeff: Ohio.
Me: Why'd you move away?
Jeff: You from here?
Me: No.
Jeff: Why'd you move away?
Me: Fair enough.
Me: There's some cool poetry out there.
Jeff: Like what?
Me: There's this one about the Midwest, by Lew Welch. It's pretty cool.
Jeff: You know it?
Me: I know the beginning.
Jeff: You wanta tell me it?
Me: No.
Jeff: Why not?
Me: You don't care.
Jeff: Come on. I'll buy you a beer.
Me: Deal.
Me: It took me five years before I could meet the Midwestern day with anything approaching dignity. The land is too flat, ugly and barren. It pounds men down past humbleness. They stoop at thirty-five, possibly cringing from the great and terrible sky. In a land like this, there can be no God but Yahweh.
Jeff: Okay, dude. That was worth a beer. Who's your baseball team?
Me: Cardinals.
Jeff: Indians.
Me: Cool.
Labels: snippets