In the City of Shy Hunters (27 page)

Regard the male and the female, Alessandro said. How they come together and make a whole.

Alessandro picked up the pipe and held the pipe with both hands.

The bowl of the pipe is red stone, Alessandro said, It is the female, it is earth. The buffalo carved into the stone represents the four-leggeds. The stem of the pipe is the male, it is wood and represents all that grows upon the earth. The twelve feathers that hang here are from eagle, and they represent all the wingeds of the air. The shells and the beads that hang from the stem represent the one-leggeds, the fish that swim in the rivers and the sea.

When you pray with this pipe, you pray for and with everything, Grandfather Alessandro said. With this pipe you will be bound to all your relatives, those living and dead, your grandfather and father, your grandmother and your mother, your brothers and sisters.

Alessandro lifted the pipe above his head, looked up, said something in Indian, held the pipe that way, then laid the pipe down inside the circle of our knees.

Regard the medicine pipe, Alessandro said. When you are with this pipe, when you hold the pipe in your hands, you must speak only truth.

Alessandro started singing high, yelling, magpies and crows.

Out of a buckskin bag, Alessandro pulled a pouch of Bull Durham tobacco and some paper sacks. He took a pinch of Bull Durham and held the tobacco between his crooked thumb and long fingers, next to the dirt. He lifted the tobacco above his head, then moved the tobacco in a circle around him, stopping four times.

Alessandro put the tobacco on a square piece of polished wood, into a circle of brass tacks on the polished wood.

Out of one sack, a pinch of sage. Alessandro held the sage, same way as the tobacco, singing high, his voice flying around my ears. He held the sage to the earth, to the sky, to the four points of the circle around him, then put the sage with the tobacco into the circle of brass tacks on the polished wood.

There were other herbs, cedar and red willow, I think, and some I didn't know. Each time, with each pinch, Alessandro sang, held the herb down, up, and around, and put the herb into the circle of brass tacks.

Alessandro mixed the herbs together, grinding and sifting them between his crooked thumb and long fingers.

My arms were behind me, my hands on the dirt, and I was leaning back on my hands. I couldn't take my eyes off the pipe. I just kept staring and staring at the different parts of the pipe put together—the dark blue beads, the feathers, the pipe bowl, the carved buffalo, the stem.

My breath in. My breath out.

In my forearms, it started.

What scared me was that the pipe was alive.

ALESSANDRO HELD UP
his hand, his wide palm another face. He folded down his fingers into his palm except for two.

I'll tell you something, Grandfather Alessandro said, So you'll know.

There are two roads, Alessandro said.

The red road is the vertical road. It runs north and south and is the good or the straight way. North is for purity and south is the source of life.

Then there is the blue or black road, which is the horizontal road. It runs east and west and is the road of error and destruction. He who travels on this path is one who is lost, distracted, ruled by his senses, sees only what is in front of his eyes, and lives for himself rather than his people.

All that there is, is represented by the offerings to the powers of the four directions, Grandfather Alessandro said. And all things—represented by the pipe mixture—all come together in this single point, to the bowl or heart of the pipe.

The pipe, Grandfather Alessandro said, Is the universe. The pipe is also us, and the person who fills the pipe becomes one with the pipe.
So the pipe is not only the center of the universe but also my own center, Alessandro said, and I expand and the six directions of space are brought within myself. It is by this expansion that the person stops being apart and becomes whole or holy, and is no longer here, and the world is out there, and the illusion of separateness is shattered.

As you take this pipe and smoke it, as you take this universe in your hands and put it to your mouth, you too stop being apart; you become one, you become whole, with the holy and the sacred.

Alessandro picked up one of the dark red embers with his bare fingers and put the ember into the pipe bowl. When he smoked, he blew the smoke down to his crotch, then above him, then four times around in a circle. The song he was singing sounded more like crying to me—when you really cry and can't stop.

Alessandro handed the pipe to Charlie, and Charlie sucked on the pipe and blew the smoke out the same way as Alessandro. Then Charlie handed the pipe to me. When I put my lips on the pipe, I thought I'd feel one with the universe, but I coughed on the first puff and kept coughing through all six directions.

GRANDFATHER ALESSANDRO
'
S HAND
reached across through the light of the door and pulled the door flap down.

The only way out is in, he said.

The black inside the sweat lodge was the black inside my soul, the black inside my head. Black breath came up fast from my lungs. My hands fighting the black air nothing. Never been no breath so much. The water onto the rocks hissed up against my ears. Burning steam on my shoulders.

Charlie's hand came out of the black and grabbed hard onto my hand, palm to palm. We went down quick. Faces, lips against the earth, sucking up what air was left on the ground. The black inside was outside, was a solid mass of dark fire.

Everything was only hot and dark and the fear I knew but hadn't met yet.
Steam fear dark
came up hard through my kidneys, burnt open my stomach, scorched out my lungs.

I was screaming. Charlie was screaming.

Alessandro was singing, high and broken off, far away deep inside.

Only Charlie's hand.

There was nothing else.

* * *

SUNLIGHT WAS A
hole.

Grandfather Alessandro's hand reached across through the darkness and opened the sweat-lodge door.

Grandfather Alessandro's eyes were too big, too scary to look into, but I looked into them.

Hear me, young Charlie and Hey-Soos, Alessandro said. When a promise is broken, we are lost. To leave the red road is to lose your soul. Always remember! The only way to get on the red road is to get yourself back to the place of beginning. This is extremely hard, because you cannot see through your own confusion. The only way to get back to the point of beginning and begin is to get back to the bowl and heart of this pipe, the pipe that is the center of the universe, which is also your own center, and you expand and the four directions of space are brought within yourself and the illusion of being separate is shattered.

Take heart, my Charlie and Hey-Soos, Alessandro said. Your love is great and good. Trust it. Never doubt it.

Just remember, Grandfather Alessandro said, And I'll tell you so you'll know. When you're lost on the blue road, when you're in the west and cannot see, remember that the bright light coming toward you at first appears to be a charging iron horse, a locomotive train that will run over you, that will crush you.

But that bright light, Alessandro said, Only appears to be an iron horse. What it really is is the light at the end of the tunnel.

STEAM ALL OVER
the windows. Grandfather Alessandro and Charlie and I were sitting aound the Formica table in Viv's double-wide kitchenette. Viv had cooked us up a big feast of beef stew, fry bread, and choke-cherry pudding.

Charlie and I were on our second bowls of beef stew. Grandfather Alessandro was on his second bowl of chokecherry pudding.

Grandfather Alessandro put down his spoon, stuck his crooked index finger into his white bowl, and scraped up the sides for more chokecherry.

I'll tell you something, Grandfather Alessandro said, So you'll know.

There's this Jewish story, Alessandro said.

Viv was at the stove stirring something in a pot. When Alessandro said
Jewish story
, Viv turned around, wiped her mouth on her sleeve, and smiled her gap-toothed smile.

In Russia, Alessandro said, There was a famous rabbi. Whenever he saw misfortune threatening his people, this rabbi would go to a place in the forest and meditate. Then he would light a fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would happen and the rabbi's people would be safe. Things went on and on like that and the rabbi died, and later, his disciple, another rabbi, whenever there was a misfortune threatening his people, this rabbi would go to the same place in the forest and say to the Great Mystery: I'm sorry but I do not know how to light the fire, but I still know the prayer, and here's the prayer. And this rabbi would say the prayer, and the miracle would happen. Then that rabbi died, and another rabbi, his disciple, whenever a misfortune threatened his people, he would go to the place in the forest and say, I do not know how to light the fire, and I do not know the prayer, but I know the place and this must be sufficient. And the miracle would happen. When that rabbi died, his disciple, a fourth rabbi, whenever a misfortune threatened his people, would sit in his chair at home with his head in his hands and say to the Great Mystery, I don't know how to light the fire, I don't know the prayer, and I don't know the place in the forest, or even which forest. All I can do is tell you about it, and this must be sufficient. And the miracle would happen.

God made man because he loves to hear stories, Alessandro said. That's a good story, huh?

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

T
he cabdriver was the blackest man. His ID above the meter said Samueli and then an African name. When I looked in his eyes, his smile was quick and bright.

The bullet-proof Plexiglas in the Checker cab had been hit by grease, which somebody tried to rub off. Around the tray in the window where you pay, deep scratches on the Plexiglas.

On a warm spring night, streaking light into darkness, the windows all open, underneath the Checker cab's wheels Manhattan monster lifted the three of us up on its back for a ride. Huge river, wide avenues, our cab a yellow tub setting sail, wind around our ears and hair, white-water bump and roll, changing lanes, swirling eddies through traffic. Harry's arm was across the top of the seat above my shoulders. Harry's white shirt the deepest white and also yellow, green, blue, red—every color of every light we passed through. Harry's Polo smell and his three staff Heinekens, after-restaurant sweat, and ironed white cotton-polyester mix from under his arm. Harry's other arm out the window, white sleeve rolled up, the red hairs on his arm past the Triple-X-Rated, past neon vegetable stands, coffee shops, past Macy's Art Family windows, darkness, figures standing in darkness, speeding light, darkness, speeding light.

No Charlie 2Moons.

Ronald Reagan and Nancy lay across our laps. My left hip was touching Fiona's hip; the wind through the window blew her white shirt collar. She'd loosened her hair and it was all over, sometimes just floating around her face. She sat back into the seat, now and then with her hand pulling her hair from her eyes, out of the comers of her red mouth. Her smell was Southern Comfort mixed with herself. She was smiling, really smiling, in the yellow-tub Checker cab.

High enough to think we were New York.

Fiona set her huge red leather purse onto Nancy's face, fumbled through papers, makeup, Polaroids.

Cool, she said, and pulled out a joint.

I had to push my crotch up so I could get into my pants pocket for matches. Ronald Reagan slid down and Nancy slid down. Fiona looked at my crotch and Harry looked. Fiona lit the joint, cupping her hand over the flame, inhaling, inhaling again, then tapped on the hologram Plexiglas, holding up the joint so the blackest-man cabdriver could see. The cabdriver smiled again. Fiona handed the joint out the window to him; little sparks flew from the joint out into Manhattan. The cabdriver toked, toked again, and for a moment I fell through, in between continents, cultures, color, Plexiglas. A merge.

All it takes is getting shit-faced. All it takes is a joint.

The cabdriver handed the joint back out the window, more sparks. Fiona took the joint, toked again, handed the joint to me.

A kiss. Fiona called toking on the joint a kiss.

Kiss? she said, holding the inhale as she passed the joint to me. Kiss?

Kiss? I said, and passed the joint to Harry.

The marijuana smelled like inside a hay silo. My shoulders were against the Checker cab backseat, Harry's red arm hairs touching my neck. Ronnie's dark crotch and Nancy's dark crotch under the cigarettes as I rolled them. Then it's the part I love most, falling into the big hole in between, and all I want to do is smoke cigarettes and smoke cigarettes.

At about 14th Street, Fiona told us about her friend Jesse's new cat. The cat's name was Green Date, and the reason the cat was named Green Date was because the cat had a special green towel he masturbated on.

Two weeks with that cat in Jesse's house, Fiona said, And all her other animals are humping the green towel too. Two dogs and two other cats all going at it. Even the cockatoo humping the goddamn green towel.

The laughter came from deep inside me, and the more I laughed, the more it made Harry and Fiona laugh. Fiona lost all her eye makeup.

The blackest-man cabdriver, Oh Captain Our Captain of the speeding yellow tub, was laughing too. He turned the music up way loud, music not from anywhere I know, Nairobi, Mombasa, the island of Lamu—drums, deep rivers, wolves, a rhythm low in my body just before my butt crack, a little place down there in me where all at once people from Nairobi and Mombasa and the island of Lamu are dancing and singing Kiswahili.

Harry passed the joint to me.

The one in the middle always gets the highest.

Powerful shit, Harry said, This dope.

I took a kiss, handed the joint to Fiona.

Cool, Fiona said.

Ronald Reagan and Nancy were a hit in Fish Bar. Five bucks a shot; just about everybody in the bar had to have a photo op with the president. But this was the Lower East Side. It wasn't like in Times Square, Fiona said. In Times Square it was tourists and Republicans standing new-shoe stiff next to Ronald Reagan and Nancy, smiling, maybe putting their arms around them.