and market and liquorstore. You walk in and it hits you. ; But where does it come from?Not the bartender, not the customers, nor the cream-  colored plastic rounding the bar stools, nor the dim e neon. Not even the TV. And our habits build up with the drag, like cocaine d will build you up staying ahead of the C bring-down. h And the junk was running low. So there we are in this d no-horse town strictly from cough syrup. And vomited  up the syrup and drove on and on, cold spring wind  whistling through that old heap around our shivering sick sweating bodies and the cold you always come down l  with when the junk runs out of you. . . . On through the w peeled landscape, dead armadillos in the road and vultures over the swamp and cypress stumps. Motels with a beaverboard walls, gas heater, thin pink blankets. Itinerant short con and carny hyp men have burned – down the croakers of Texas… .in And no one in his right mind would hit a Louisiana at croaker. State Junk Law.ill Came at last to Houston where I know a druggist. I ae haven’t been there in five years but he looks up and ae makes me with one quick look and just nods and says: lie “Wait over at the counter.. . . ” So I sit down and drink a cup of coffee and after a ck while he comes and sits beside me and says, “What do you want?” it, “A quart of PG and a hundred nembies.” se He nods, “Come back in half an hour.” So when I come back he hands me a package and ire says, “That’s fifteen dollars. . . . Be careful.”