© 2011 asotir.
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License.
10
IT’S A LONG TIME since I was in San Pedro. I imagine another club opened to serve the money people who once danced and drank and did dirty things in the burned-out Elysium. I imagine their games are much the same. I imagine the poor people, the ones who have to live in San Pedro during the day, are even more miserable than they were. That’s the way things go.
San Pedro used to be a city. People lived there and worked there like in a lot of cities in America. Not any more.
If you ever go there, and find yourself down by the docks in the butt of the city, you might find a small storefront near the water’s edge. The shop is closed when the sun is up, but when the sunset streaks the shop window with muddy red bands, the neon sign will flicker on: Traxx. Below it the sign in the door will read CLOSED; then a man’s hand will turn the sign over so it reads OPEN FOR BUSINESS.
In the front window you’ll see cards neatly arranged on white linen to show you the tattoos you can get there. One card, in red and black lines, shows a drawing of a spider. Next to it is a drawing of a skull. Next to that, a flag design. Then a snake. Then a rose.
One card stands apart from all the others. It’s a round design in black lines. It looks like a beetle.
If you ever to to San Pedro, down by the docks in the butt of the city, and find a small tattoo shop near the water’s edge, don’t go in, and don’t get a tattoo. But if you do go in, and if you do get a tattoo … well, just make sure you don’t get that one.
