Saturday, June 30, 2012

Support Counter Intelligence


Out in a little town, in the middle of nowhere, close to somewhere is Mama’s store.  Here is a collection of old stuff, for she rents space to a variety of people.  Even the store is old.

In the old days of saloons and pool halls this shop thrived.  Pool balls made great missiles to be launched at the enemy.  Even the ceiling had it’s stories.  There and here was the occasional bullet hole. 


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The clientele has changed, it is now mostly the wives of the pool players that wander the aisles. No longer to the six shooters thunder forth, or dodge the lost pool ball.

The floor can still be heard shuffling some soft shoe.  The hair from the barber getting mixed into the floor.  His chair long gone, but a memory.

The bar, cabinets and stools still await the thirsty traveler.  One can belly up to the bar.

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I  stop in for the iced latte, maybe a shake just for  the ambiance.  Walk the aisles, hear the memories whisper to me.

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