Under My Hat And On My Feet

Under my Hat and on my Feet

Guess I gotta get goin again. Getting a little too comfortable, time to pack up my old backpack. Gather some more dust from far off places in its tattered fabric. That's the way it is and has been for a lot longer than I care to remember.

From where I'm sittin right now I can just about see the whole town. Even the motel I been living. There, just over that patch a woods is where I been workin since I got to town, digging up busted pipe. I've liked it here a lot, but that'll be that in a few minutes. On the run on the face of the sun feeling the heat blister my feet if I stand around too long.

Packed my bag and started moving around daybreak. Went to the jobsite, collected what was owed to me. Told the boss I was leaving and thought about telling him what he could do with that shovel and or himself. But I didn't cause I might be back through

here one day. Honest work is honest work.

Bought a wedge a yellow cheese and a box a crackers from the market, then to the liquor store for a bottle and a pouch of tobacco. After that, I wandered down to the train yard to check the schedule. I was early so I walked up and down the tracks throwing stones at old rusted out oil drums and such.

The train started moving around four. I watched for a few minutes waitin for the perfect moment and car, to jump on. I always get a thrill from hopping a train. I tried to pick an empty freighter that wouldn't need any attention during the trip. It was dirty but happily deserted. The door was open so I could watch the scene as we rolled by.

We stopped for about a half hour earlier. A brakemen was walking the tracks and happened to look in on me. I believe it scared him more than me. He was a nice white haired man, early sixties probably. He didn't care that I was there. He even told me about the stops and how long we would be where. Said there was a bar right off the tracks where we were gonna stop tonight for crew changes. Probably about a two hour layover. Enough time for me to find a game and maybe a woman. I offered him a taste of my whiskey. He looked up and down the tracks, I guess to see if his conductor was around. After he was satisfied, he turned that bottle up and got more than a taste. He told me a couple a jokes before he got back to his place on the train.

After he left I drank a little and dreamed a lot. About where I been, where I'm going and the unfinished life most of us leave behind. I been moving so long I don't know if I could stop. The day I was gonna settle down keeps getting pushed further away. Deeper in the burial plot, the state will no doubt have to foot the bill for.

There are good days on the horizon yet. I'm on my way to St Louis where I'm gonna catch a river boat into New Orleans. First thing off the boat, I walk down from the levee, into the quarter and get me a cup of coffee, so strong you cannot

see the bottom of the coffee cup. Even at half full you cannot

see the bottom. That's one of the reasons I come back to this city year after year. It always welcomes me. Strong drink and loud music. Cool breeze coming off the lake to pull the steam from the hard, hot living that goes on down there.

During the night a loud ruckus shook me from my reverie. Apparently we ran down about thirty head a cattle that got loose and onto the tracks. The brakemen come by to tell me about it. I asked if he thought I could maybe cut me a fresh steak. He got a good laugh from that. He said "go on ahead boy, get you a steak ". Before I got out a the car good, I could see why he was laughing. The smell of blood and brake fluid gave me a good jolt. I almost lost of my stomach, hearing the cows that didn't die right away call out to the sick sad night. It took awhile to get going again and I stayed in my car trying to shake that scene from my mind. Once we got going we had to go real slow. One of the cows had busted an air hose coupling.

When we pulled into the yard the brakemen told me, we would be here for the night, until they could replace the coupling. I left my pack and walked across the tracks to the bar. It was a rundown place, with more wood showing than paint.

Inside, the crowd was mostly farmers and a few drifters, like myself. I saw they had a backroom with a card table. I walked on back and took one of the two seats left. I didn't pull my money for a few hands. Just getting a feel for em. They started joking me. Didn't I know how to play, maybe I wanted lessons from the pros. I just sat there and smiled. After playing for awhile I started getting real lucky, and they started getting real mad. I knew I should quit, maybe lose a few big ones before I got up, but I couldn't. When I'm winning I get a rush like nothing else. I had my knife with me, if things got out of hand. After I'd won about two weeks pay, I decided that I had pushed