There’s a man in the desert, and of course its a man. And he’s good. He’s got to be good. If he weren’t good he’d be dead. And in this town, and he runs this town, in this town he’s gentle and slow. He’s a good man, he doesn’t shout. He knows not to shout, and he’s good at it. He’s a good man, obviously. He's funny, speaks slowly and is unclear. He says hello, he bids farewell.
 

He used to be a pianist. He was very good. He was a famous pianist and played all over. People used to tell him he was good, and he knew it, and he said nothing much. He smiled, slowly, thank you. Very, very good. So beautiful. So true. He played all night, so beautiful, thank you. This was before the desert. Before the desert he could be good at that, at playing the piano. He could be good at sitting and smiling slowly saying thank you. But what of now? Why now? How? Now he knows what to do. He had to adapt. The desert now, his life now, slow, gentle, brutal. He knows when to sleep, and with whom. He lies very well. His lies are true. He tells them what he wants them to know. So gently, slowly, so well. He waits, talks, falls down. He fucks with them from behind and tells them he loves them. He tells his wife he loves her. He tells her when she hates him, when he’s weak, when she calls him a coward. Because he does this she does what he wants. And because he knows what he wants, he knows how to get it. He tells her he loves her when she hates him, and it makes her furious. It makes her fuck things up. This is what he wants.
 

And he’s a cop. Jesus fucking Christ, a Cop. And he’s the only cop. And he’s no good at being a cop. He never arrests anyone. Especially not the white people. Not the man who beats his wife on the street. Not the pimps who yell too much. He doesn’t arrest anyone, and he’s good at hiding from violence. He walks slowly and mumbles something, says nothing, and they laugh at him when he’s gone. He’s good at that. He mumbles something and then he leaves. He makes a joke and leaves. Even his gun is invisible. He doesn’t use it. He uses their guns.  When he murders the man who’s wife he's fucking he blows him away with his own shotgun, kicks him in the stomache and tells him how good it is. When he shoots the young man who helped him bury the body he shoots him with the corpse's gun, and tells him how good it is. God. Jesus fucking Christ. He’s so good at not being a good cop. He doesn’t want to be a  good cop, but he knows what he wants. And he knows that by being the cop he can have what he wants.