NEW CAREERS FOR
LETHARGIC
PEOPLE
I ran into the fence-line running. At face-level, it
gouged
my cheek and took out an eye. So, saucer-faced for the
remainder of my days, I lived a dog's life in this New
York City gutter : bumming for fleece and cigarettes,
stealing every wafer and water I could find, making
deals
with both crooks and cops to stay alive. They called
me 'One-Eyed Alcatraz' and always seemed to find me
when needed. I couldn't hide, but I was so much out
in the open that no one knew exactly where I was.
Sweet deal. I took to horses, and groomed many a
mare in the side-street stables : where the workhorses
were kept - drayage and cart, food-wagon,
water-tray,
firemen's-wagons and all that. I smoked ten billion
cigarettes
in the run of this ample life, I bet. Nothing ever stopped
me;
power, stimulation, energy, they all were my own. And
every woman I ever had never left without asking 'once
more, again, please.' Just the way I liked it. My birth
and anniversary days were held under docks and wharves
where I slept; kindness and the gentle paid me visits, I
ate
whatever I was given or whatever I stole. And whenever.
I
kept no hours for nothing at all. Until Death, until
Death,
it affixed me, put me in place, stopped me dead, and
here
I am alone to tell you - one more orphan, swirling. 'I
would
not stop for Death, so Death kindly stopped for
me.'
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