In The Black Rock Tavern

The large man in the Budweiser tee with serpents twining on his arms has leukemia. It doesn’t seem right but they’ve told him he won’t die for years if he sticks with the treatment. He’s talking about his years in the foundry, running a crane on an overhead track in the mill. Eight hours a day moving ingots into rollers. Sometimes without a break because of the bother of getting down. Never had an accident. Never hurt anyone. He had that much control. His problem is that electricity arced through his body and accumulated. When he got down at the end of a shift he could squeeze a forty-watt light bulb between thumb and finger and make it flare. All the guys came around to see that.