Babel

A vast, limitless throng of prisoners walk the slick, cement pathway upward; This could be the Tower of Babel (scene from Metropolis, 1927).

Above me, a warder, (or turnkey) wonders/wanders with his co-worker: "Why he hates me to the degree that he does."

He has oily,

slicked-back hair, sideburns,

and a huge flat,

Ski-slope nossum;

really a bridge

going down, punctuating the

Upper lip assemblage.

He is dressed

in a white shirt:

plain street slacks,

unfettered by uniform wear.

And, as he cracks an invisible whip-hand flourish, I make with my gun fingers (neither of us being really, truly armed);

Point with my hands folded and the index finger sticks out—BLAM! He goes down like a Tijuana crack whore—And I note an interesting fact:

He is not a real man, but some sort of Hollywood prop—MANNEQUIN. (Perhaps inflatable?)

As he slides down the cement walkway, prisoners part to make room; and I realize THIS—

"That is the sort of thing they use to throw out of windows in bad movies."