flecks of spittle in his beard and the corners of his mouth
we talked about D-9 cats and pigs and justice
I whipped a little St. Augustine/MLK on him
"there's law and there's justice don't get 'em confused."
"damn right..", he looked me in the eyes and said, "my babies don't starve."
we talked about Eugene
"Does it always rain like this here? 'cause it's a bitch trin' to find a dry place, found one the other night...was water all around me...but I was in a dry place."
we talked about the speed freak crash pad in Marysville
where Bo-bo had bled to death on the porch from a single bullet wound to the thigh sent his way by a pack of teenagers out to get the chemicals