Thursday, June 4, 2020

WHO GOT THE COAT?

By Ben Greenman
from forthcoming collection, as yet untitled

He lost his coat. He first knew it when he rubbed his thumb against his index finger, because that’s the same gesture he used when he went into the right pocket of the coat for breadcrumbs. In the other pocket was a plastic baggie with playing cards that had pictures of shrimp on their backs. The fronts were blank. The cards were from was some kind of game where you were supposed to fill in your own suits and denominations. He didn't remember the rules. The coat was the best. He had held court in it often. It went with everything. white shirt, black shirt, no shirt, black pants, brown pants, wolf pants. Where had he left it? The question was humming in his mind. He couldn't think of anything else. He had had it at the Elephant’s Horn. He knew that because it was bunched up under one arm while Banana Imperative was planning, and Cigarillo, and the Tangible Communication Orchestra. But then they left the club for bars, Shapes first, Cowardly Lion next, and by Ring Toss, it was gone. It was morning now. The bars wouldn’t be open for hours. He could call but then he’d have to wait for calls coming in. He couldn’t think of anything at all. Tears were burning the corners of his eyes. Why was he so upset? Valuables were not in question. His phone was safe in his bag, his wallet in his pocket. The coat was just warmth and a few small things without which his life had no meaning.

Monday, June 1, 2020