Tuesday, August 6, 2013

4557. TREMOLO

TREMOLO
Outside the Greenwich Hotel, sticking stabs in
the softened tar, knife-edges ruined by grit : I was
seventeen years old and so ready to roll. The old, black
Imperial, then Chrysler's hotshot car, was bigger than
a a battleship and heavier than a whale. But they let
things like that go, back then. Smoke wreathed me.
-
I'd forgotten what I was doing, sitting by a black
widow; fearsome spider spinning time, encaptured
as I was with lethal venom too. Forgotten friends,
brothers-in-arms, all buddies and pals. Then here came
came Johnny Appleseed, hopping down the bunny
trail, hippity-hoppity, my future was on its way.

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