And there was Tom Boyle. He worked at Fox Foundry
before they shut the doors. He liked to get lit
at Fifteenth Round. After his shift, he’d meet up
with Franny Shaw and Stan Rhutkowski. They’d pound
shots of Jamison then wash it down with Schlitz
and Bud. They coughed up black stuff even as young men.
Emphysema would be in Franny’s and Stan’s futures—
Look, a Piping Plover just flew into those leaves.
I got a book to identify the birds. You didn’t get so many
years ago. These parks were shittier then, the grass
sickly from garbage—Anyway, Tom was built
like a fireplug. He never met an argument he couldn’t
settle. All the Boyles were cops, which kept him out
of most trouble. Sometimes, he just didn’t want to stop,
so when last call came, he told the others about a joint
in Old City. “It’s got broads jumping on the bar
and flashing their tits,” he said. Just one of the many tales
he told. It was early, and they were all young men.
So they staggered their way to Front and Girard
through vacant streets, singing to pass the time: Dream On,
mostly. Other times, Piano Man. The station agent
was snoozing when they arrived, so they jumped
the turnstile. A couple bulbs on the platform lamps
were out. Everything was blurry in the murky light.
You see, Tom had to go something awful. “Like a race horse,”
Franny said. “So much he could taste it,” added Stan.
They started whispering rain, river, and beer, beer, beer
until Tom could take no more. He walked to the platform’s
edge and unzipped. Franny and Stan fell over themselves,
laughing. When Tom let loose his yellow stream,
he sighed like a contented man. Stan said he could see
through the dark that he was grinning. That’s when
it happened. Real quick. Like lightning, but instead
of the sky, it came from the tracks, up through Tom’s
unbroken rope of piss. It shivered him for seconds,
but to Franny and Stan, it was minutes. He was still
holding his dick when the current finally chucked him off.
Like a marionette with clipped strings, Tom collapsed.
Franny and Stan stood over him with their hands dug
in their pockets. The Emphysema took them last year.