King

Yesterday I rewalked some old footsteps in Seattle and I followed the tracks down to the bay where theres ships big as cities just sleeping. Down there was a fellow beating the hell out of a parking meter and pair of buckets that said ‘Soy Sauce!’ He had the jamz. So I hoped up on a concrete thing to listen to him. I still had my big orange headphones on but I switched um off cause he made some magic with those buckets. And I was just sitting there, toe-tappin with red-warpaint on my cheeks (cause you always gotta be ready for an adventure when you’re in Seattle of course – it’s a city you feel very silly in if you don’t have paint on your face) And the guy looks up, sees me, and starts laughin’. So I started laughing too. And we laughed with each other for a good minute before he called me over, “Girl, I dig your style.” Then he invited me to tea. And we drank tea. And his name was King. And he really was a King cause all he needed was some buckets and a city (any city would do, but Portland was his favorite) and he could make music that could turn into all the food and freedom he’d ever need.

Though I only understood about half of what King said cause I don’t speak jive….. but he owns the whole Frank Sinatra collection on caset.

I gave him my gold paint and my blue paint cause he dug my facepaint so much.

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~ by warpaintandwandering on February 22, 2011.

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