A PLACE TO LIE DOWN
Nelson Algren
Mopin' down the ties, fee/in' mighty low
Got to keep m.ovin', got no place to go
lust one more hungry poor sonofabitch
Wond'rin why he goes hungry in a country so rich
Two
HUNGRY BUMS
in Texas, mopin' down the S. P. ties.
On either side of the tracks stretched the Texas prairie, half–
unseen now under a fog. Within the fog a cowbell tinkled, near
at hand and coming nearer. The black 'bo drew a battered
pack of cigarettes out of his hip pocket.
"Say," he asked his white companion, "You know why
they made 01' Gol's in the first place?"
The white didn't know.
"To keep niggers an' Jews from smokin' camels is why."
They both laughed, without strength, and moped on.
The Negro paused, · stood on one leg like a heron, and
slipped off his right shoe. His toes were encrusted with
.a
fish–
like scale; he rubbed them with gaunt knuckles until brownish
chips brittled off onto the ties.
"It itches," he complained, "It itches like the crabs."
The white offered advice: "Y'all ought to wear a white
sock on that. On
anythin'
like that."
When they reached El Paso streets were deserted; but
morning was breaking over Juarez, and an empty C.C.C. truck
rolled past as though to herald an empty dawn.
Neither boy knew where this city's breadline, if any, was
to be found; so they walked on aimlessly. Once they paused in
a doorway while the Negro removed his shoe once more, and
again scraped his knuckles with his toes. Above them an un–
shaded night bulb still burned feebly, casting a sickly greenish
glow across a staircase leading up to nowhere. A woman passed
the doorway, head down and hurrying through the rain along
the unlovely southern street.
"I'm tired as a old hound, aint you?" the Negro asked as
he scraped.
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