There's something kinda funny about the whole thing, because somehow Jack's lost the mustache and the weight and about twenty years off his frame, but he don't seem to care that he ain't supposed to up and wandering around--let alone fixing a flat tire--when he's supposed to be dead, so he just gets out the old toolbox from the bed of the truck, and gets to work on the tire.
The sun's heading down to bed among the mountains, shining in his eyes, so that Jack doesn't notice that he ain't strictly alone no more.
Something gleams in the fading light, gray and dull.
After all, it's hard to change a tire without a tire iron.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-08-10 04:05 pm (UTC)The sun's heading down to bed among the mountains, shining in his eyes, so that Jack doesn't notice that he ain't strictly alone no more.
Something gleams in the fading light, gray and dull.
After all, it's hard to change a tire without a tire iron.