e this corner. "
"Okay," said Spyder leaning forward to peer out the windshield. "That semi up ahead. The blonde eating a taco in front of bodega. The mailbox painted like a Mexican flag. That blimp shaped like Garuda. "
"Whats a Garuda?"
"A bird-beaked messenger deity from Thailand. "
"I dont see nothing like that. "
"Tell me what you see. "
Barry breathed deeply and craned his head on the end of his long, doughy neck. "Some bums with shopping carts. Some hookers. Mexican or Asian, maybe. Cant tell from here. They got on high heels and the littlest goddam skirts. You can see all the way to Bangkok when they bend over. "
"Keep going," said Spyder.
"Just stuff?"
"Just stuff. "
"A Goodwill. A closed down porn theater. Cholos drinking forty-ouncers by a low-rider. A cop car stopping near em…?," Barry fell into a sing-song pattern, reciting as they drove. "A mom with her kid in a stroller. A couple a dogs fucking. Get some, boy! Some dope dealers. Bunch of teenyboppers cutting school. Little shits. Dont learn to read and we end up paying their welfare so they can have babies. " Barry glanced into the rearview mirror at Spyder. "This is kind of a stupid game, buddy. When is it your turn?"
"My turn?" Spyder lit a cigarette, his first of the morning. "Everything you saw, I saw. But there were other things, too.
"Dazzle me. "
"A winged horse. A lion turning into a golden bird, then into smoke. An angel sharing a cigarette with a horned girl whose skins blue and hard, like topaz. "
"Jesus fuck, man," said Barry. Spyder saw the driv
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