Hoods
Paul B. Janeczko
In black leather jackets,
watching Spider work
the wire coat hanger
into Mrs. Koops car,
they remind me of crows
huddled around a road kill.
Startled,
They looked up,
then back
as Spider,
who nodded once, setting them free
toward me.
I bounded away,
used a parking meter
to whip me around the corner
past Janelli's Market,
the darkened Pine Street Grille,
and the steamed windows
of Sudsy's Modern Laundromat.
I climbed-two at a time
the granite steps
of the Free Public Library
and pushed back thick wooden doors
as the pursuing pack stopped –
sinners at the door of a church.
From the corner table of the reference room
I watched them
pacing,
head turning every time the door opened,
pacing,
until Spider arrived
to draw them away.
I waited, fingering hearts,
initials carved into the table,
grinning as I heard myself telling Raymond
of my death-defying escape.
