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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Survival / Success
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 07/16/2013
TOWARDS THE DOORWAY AND THE LIGHT
Born 1950, M, from Baltimore, Maryland, United StatesTOWARDS THE DOORWAY AND THE LIGHT
I didn't see the rake...I was feeling around in the dark...of an unfinished basement...looking for my spade
when I stepped on the business end of that nasty rake...the handle slammed into my face,
cracking cartilage and misting my eyes...when I stubbed my toe on a raised drain...stumbling past a man
pissing against the cinderblock wall...as I staggered towards the doorway and the light.
About then a gravel laden truck pulled in and I gathered with the laborers around its rear end.
Then it dumped its load...kicking dust...around a machine scarred tree....We shoveled the gravel into wheelbarrows
and then leaned into them biceps bulging...lifting the tapered handles...rolling and bumping and spilling them
over renegade roots...brickbats...tangled cords...and splintered stakes...sweat pouring off of us by the bucket full
as we emptied the stone deep into the bowels of that cellar...as often as I could I slaked my bristling throat
swigging warm water from a ten gallon metal can...I felt tired...beaten...and strong all at once...hearing
ex-cons bragging about sloppily seducing last night's hussies...I was the only one who couldn't stomach or stand
chewing Mail Pouch tobacco...the redneck's chaw of choice...the rest of that gang teased my pussy pickiness
while folding and jamming a wad in their jaws like it was candy...so much black spit was flying...that you'd catch the shit on your trouser leg...but you'd be so caked in mud...soot...tar...dust...you'd hardly notice...you took it in stride
along with smashed fingers...scraped knuckles...crushed toes...bloody gashes...split blisters...leathery calluses...
and on that day a broken nose...I watched and grudgingly admired illiterate men rolling and licking their own smokes
clenched between their lips till they burned straight back to their rotten toothless gums...it would take that afternoon
and probably a lightning storm before we could haul in four tons of cement...our boss...Jackie said for sure was coming.
by L DOUGLAS ST OURS September 2010
TOWARDS THE DOORWAY AND THE LIGHT(L DOUGLAS ST OURS)
TOWARDS THE DOORWAY AND THE LIGHT
I didn't see the rake...I was feeling around in the dark...of an unfinished basement...looking for my spade
when I stepped on the business end of that nasty rake...the handle slammed into my face,
cracking cartilage and misting my eyes...when I stubbed my toe on a raised drain...stumbling past a man
pissing against the cinderblock wall...as I staggered towards the doorway and the light.
About then a gravel laden truck pulled in and I gathered with the laborers around its rear end.
Then it dumped its load...kicking dust...around a machine scarred tree....We shoveled the gravel into wheelbarrows
and then leaned into them biceps bulging...lifting the tapered handles...rolling and bumping and spilling them
over renegade roots...brickbats...tangled cords...and splintered stakes...sweat pouring off of us by the bucket full
as we emptied the stone deep into the bowels of that cellar...as often as I could I slaked my bristling throat
swigging warm water from a ten gallon metal can...I felt tired...beaten...and strong all at once...hearing
ex-cons bragging about sloppily seducing last night's hussies...I was the only one who couldn't stomach or stand
chewing Mail Pouch tobacco...the redneck's chaw of choice...the rest of that gang teased my pussy pickiness
while folding and jamming a wad in their jaws like it was candy...so much black spit was flying...that you'd catch the shit on your trouser leg...but you'd be so caked in mud...soot...tar...dust...you'd hardly notice...you took it in stride
along with smashed fingers...scraped knuckles...crushed toes...bloody gashes...split blisters...leathery calluses...
and on that day a broken nose...I watched and grudgingly admired illiterate men rolling and licking their own smokes
clenched between their lips till they burned straight back to their rotten toothless gums...it would take that afternoon
and probably a lightning storm before we could haul in four tons of cement...our boss...Jackie said for sure was coming.
by L DOUGLAS ST OURS September 2010
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