Читать книгу Dr. Sax - Jack Kerouac - Страница 17

THE KIDS YELLING in the tenement yards at night–I remember now and realize the special sound of it–mothers and families hear it in aftersupper windows. They’re slaloming the iron posts, I’m walking through them in that spectral dream of revisiting Pawtucketville, quite often I get in from the hill, sometimes from Riverside. I’ve come wearying out of my pillow, I hear pots rattling in kitchens, complaints of an elder sister in the yard becoming a chant, which the littler ones accept, some with cat meows and sometimes actual cats do join in from their posts along the house and garbage cans–wrangles, African chatters at murky circles–moans of repliers, little coughs, mothermoans, pretty soon too late, go in and play no more, and with my what-woe trailing behind me like the Dragon Net of Bad Dreams I come sploopsing to a no-good end and wakeup.

The children in the court pay no attention to me, either that or because I am a ghost they dont see me.

Pawtucketville rattles in my haunted head …