By Chris Shaw
“The Cowboy Poet”
LOOMIS could hear only the incessant roar, in his face, ears, and eyes.
From waist down, brown soupiness swirled. Near horizontal barbs of gray rain shot, flew. No letup. Now Loomis flails, stumbles, but he refuses to stop his grim slog. How sanguine of Loomis.
Refusing as he would, not allowing his torso to flop over, letting him into the quagmire. Then a true miracle, as a long two-by four floated into his range, and Loomis made the big grab.He seized the ole wood and pulled, or more accurately, poled himself frenzied, going due west of Charity Hospital. Then:
“YO! Dawg!” Loomis jerked his head in the dimness, seeking the direction of that uncomfortably familiar salutation. Yet, all he could see ahead was something akin to a small tangled octopus? Cluster of water snakes–? Closer inspection yielded up the top-knots of a young man’s braided hair do. No! Not that devilish dude, that thug from Saint Roch, by the name of CRAIG!!
Loomis pulled on the “thing,” didn’t like what he found, retched, pitched forward, sliding away from the balled deathly shape. Found himself half bobbing, half kicking his way in the direction of Gentilly Boulevard, when “Ho!”, he struck a hard concrete bump. He met hard with his sodden Timbaland boots upon a sloping riser, maybe a speed bump, who knew.
“Out of dat damn’ble blobby muck at last,” yawped Loomis, attempting to sound triumphal.
Meanwhile, the clouds were lifting a tad over the Morial Convention Center, though inside the vast hall was yet awash with sighs and cries of a vast miserable multitude. Lindsay Patterson fussed and arranged Ms. Lyvania’s Afghan blanket around her spiky shoulders, as the dear old soul nodded gently into a much needed nap. Outside the steel doors, a bleary-eyed NOPD officer, Odin Troupe, led a largely incoherent, unshaven man, who repeatedly insisted he was a “Reader,” by the name of “Loomis,” in to be dealt with by someone kind. In this case, the caregiver was Lindsay. “Can I git a lil’ HELP?” Troupe bellowed. Linsay smiled wanly, and helped Loomis to a cot. “I’ll deal with this,” she said softly.
(to be continued)