Yank Martin's Testimony
This is the way it happened that night. I was
tooling and I was slicing. I was stock still. 2 nomads
popped across the hill. My radio said go, boy, and my
company said the same thing. Into that bag of lunch
stepped yours truly. In the dark, I could see only
three beans, each red and yellow offset by a green.
There was more time than I knew how to use I could
feel it nourishing the bones I might later throw into
action. Quite possibly an atomic storm riddled every
glimmering window. A familiar fear gripped my comb
and red wigs flew from my skull. Sense of urgency had
put me out into that silver space half destiny half
desire and now not one thing there did I know to do.
My rooms stood.
