Jim's parting words
Were Vee's hex to him
As the door closed
Rattling the metal cage
Lane, watching him
Intently from
Behind the cab window, assumed
As if water
As Jim walked away...
The silver chain
He had in his palm
Was not as cold as that muscle
No, it was slightly hot
Hot to the touch
So when the car pulled over in the fusillade
Lane repeated Vee's name
While he gathered the sovereigns
The wind carried down yesterday's debris
Cans and newspapers
Were lining the tawdry streets
He stood in front
Of a four-story building
That was covered in dust and graffiti
There, he saw the peaks
Of the tower of kings
Saw the weighty pall in the periphery
Saw the grey overpass
Fiddlers and raconteurs
Tinted shapes of passing women
He could hear it then
From the far distance
Vee's voice as it drew closer to him
But the silver chain
That Jim had handed him
Was now a totem in his hand
For it had turned into a writhing snake