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Date Posted: 02:12:55 05/21/02 Tue
Author: "Goldie Locks"
Subject: Little bit of my world

Words of the Get-away Man

The get-away man on driving:

�When the get-away man say�s he�s goin to get-away, he does.�
I lean back and take in the somber appearnce of the get-way man, who�ll we will just call Jiles. His composition; a figure of outward confidence and austere reflection. He sprawls back against the worn synthetic leather booth, his jacket the color of rusted dawn, reflecting the sunrise into curves of human morality. A man behind us mumbles. A silent altercation aimed in response to the sound of Jiles�s leather jacket, grinding against the booth, as he slides his posture into a comfortable slouch. His skin, no more the color of the polished leather; one might merely mistake him for just another black man. His eyes showed insight, a proud individual of African American decent, a lone patriot in a desolate land of human evolution.
�So I�m here to tell it like it is!� Jiles draws out the moment, pushing the cigarette far from his lip, to accommodate the air among the wisps of disappearing smoke.
�I�ve been a get-away man now about half my normal life. If you can consider normal, gifted with a sense of urgency. Normal as I am, you may already know me. I am that �motha fucka� who knows your every move. My skill at the wheel is no less potent than gasoline on a wicker cabinet. I can spot you. I�ve done that. Now, I�m not without my means. I know what trust is, I think morals are good, as long as they don�t get in the way.�
It was not my intention to pry at the inner workings of some lone-ranger, futuristic cowboy, intellectual exhibitionist; I just needed a driver.
� What of your driving?�
�You mean at the wheal.� Jiles responds. I note a quick implication into the inner workings of Jiles. He was trying to avoid the question.
� Don�t answer a question with a question.�I said, praying that the idiom would not go unnoticed.
Jiles corrected himself to his full height, lacking girth in proportion to height, he made for an odd image of respect, six foot , skinny. He appeared to be sizing me up; reading my table of contents, amidst the run down dinner, printed upon my form. I almost caught myself turning away, as if a bad angle on the forward scan of my barecode personification would create a better reading on his mental checkout-monitor of personalities. Catching my angle of depression just in time. I come away from Jiles with no more than a nibble at my real intentions.
� So it�s like that. � Jiles returns, equally vague and to the point.
� If that is how it is then allow me to proceed.� � The get-away man never leaves the ground.� � You know the white reflectors positioned in the middle of the street.� �I can�t touch�m. I tried, I just can�t. I feel the road, you know, like feeling guilty about nothing. I come away with a gift for driven, and I don�t owe any body a thing; nothing! You would feel guilty too! Gett�n somethin for noth�n! I just lend my talents to serve my purpose. Any good cause in my eyes will do.�

A mind is a terrible thing to waste. Peace and Love to all my boyz in Cali.

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