128

Sal stepped out of the bar
Into the din of the street.
It was noon, earlier there
Had been rain and it was
Rammed with slick taxis and
Slow blue hulks of articulated
Trucks. An immanent thrum.
He weaved through standing
Traffic in his greatcoat and
Corduroy slouch hat raising a
Hand if the cars came on.
At the far curb wreathed in
Vent steam the cornerstore was
An island of light, neons and
Striplights, betslips, tropical
Fruit, malt bottles, medicine.
Ahmad's. He went in and made
For the rear where there was a
Grey, unmarked door which he
Tested lightly and then pushed.
He moved silently down a dim
Hallway and through the portal
Of an empty office and sat down
In the vacant chair. He stared
At the gap in the doorway and he
Rested on the edge of the desk
The thin barrel of his Sig-Sauer.