Read The Collected Works of Billy the Kid for Free Online Page B

picture of me there was a white block down the fountain road where somebody had come out of a building and got off the porch onto his horse and ridden away while I was waiting standing still for the acid in the camera to dry firm.
    So, bed, says John and we say yes and sit for a bit longer, then Sallie wakes Garrett and we all get up and go to our rooms. And Angie I find is high as hell and stumbling hanging onto my shoulder. In the room we have been given the same bed I was given when alone. Angie says she’ll have to sleep on top of me or me on top of her. And I say I’m too drunk for a balancing act Angie. O fooo she says and buttons open my shirt and her hands are like warm gloves on my back, soft till she uses her nails to scratch me towardsher and I come and start giggling, wait the bathroom hold it. Yes, she says laughing. Quiet Sallie’s in the next room, got ears like anything.
    On the can I have to sit cos I know I cant pee straight. Before I finish she comes in and straddles me and drops her long hair into my open shirt as we slip our tongues into each others mouths. Her skirt over both of us and the can. Billy come on. Mmm I say yes, get up first. No. Dammit Angie. No. And slowly and carefully she lifts her legs higher and hangs them on tight to my shoulders like clothespins. Come on Angie I’m drunk ’m not a trapeze artist. Yes you are. No. And slowly I lift her up pressing her to me. The smell of her sex strong now daubing my chest and shirt where she rubs it. Youre too heavy for this I think, and we move careful to the floor, she leaning back like timber, lifts her legs to take clothes off and I grab the skirt and pull it over her head. Let me out Billy. Out Billy. Quiet she’s next door. No! I know you Billy you! Youre fucking her. No Angie, no, I say, honest Angie you got too much, and enter her like a whale with a hat on, my drowning woman my lady who drowns, and take my hat off.

*
    Waking in the white rooms of Texas after a bad night must be like heaven I think now. About 9 o clock and the room looks huge like the sun came in and pushed out the walls, the sun—as if reflected off the bushes outside—swirling on the white walls and the white sheets on the bed as I can see when I put my head up.
    I’m sure everyone in the house threw up last night. All except Garrett anyway. The whisky and coffee and whisky again did in our communal stomach and the bathroom last night was like a confession box. At one point Angela was in the can and Sallie and I stood in the hall, leaning against the wall, eyes half closed, she in her nightgown of white witha bow of grey trailing down to her stomach. The hall also grey as nobody wants the light on for our eyes are shifting like old half dried blood under their lids and Sallie’s even put her hair over her face for more shade. And in my blur she looks lovely there, her body against the cold stone wall, leaning there, her arms folded, the wrists snuggled into her elbows and her gown down to her white feet scratching at each other. Me in a towel, having now to sit cos I keep slipping down the wall.
    Hurry up Angela, Sallie hits the door. More noises in there like an engine starting up. I cant wait, I said, I’ll go outside. No reply. And I move through the dark house hitting stools with my feet and hanging onto chairs on my way, cant see a goddam. Realise walls are there just before I hit them and the dog comes out of a corner and along with me licking my bare feet.
    Outside with only a towel on and the wind is lifting the sand and lashing me around. I select a spot and start throwing up, the wind carrying it like a yellow ribbon a good foot to my right. The acid burning my gums and tongue on the way out. Stop. Put my fingers into the mushrooms of my throat and up it comes again and flies out like a pack of miniature canaries. A flock. A covey of them, like I’m some magician or something. This is doing nothing for my image is it. Here I am ¾s naked in a towel