The two palms meet somewhere around waist height
callouses exchanging alternatingly forceful grips
invisible to almost everyone except the participants
in the low light and through the thick smoke-filled air.
"I've got everything west of Grand," he says.
The other adds additional signals of acceptance
that the terms are reasonable with an
almost imperceptible jerk of the head, the brim
of his hat moving just a quarter of an inch
and back to its original spot, perched on the
neck of a statue. The others have crowded in
more to continue to obscure the deal, not
really even paying attention to the goings on
inside the inner circle. The guns are there,
but hidden, and the peace can continue to
be maintained, so long as the deal stays solid.
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