THIS CONTAGION
MAKES ME WINCE
(Life as I know it)
I'm aghast again and more and Jesus H. Christ let
me get this right. Tumblers tumble and comedians
can chuckle, correct? When the audience laughs,
does it mean they've got it? Now where did I park
my car? How far away is the Pacific rim?
-
Let me follow? You say the pudding was made from
the blood of pigs? You say you left the map on the
car's hood? How then did we get from here to there;
well, I guess I mean there to here? I would shoulder
most any burden for you; but, gotta' run.
-
Far, far away, in another clime, the little lady was
asking questions of a man in a coat : 'How am I
to stand this, and how much more should I take?
You seem to be making everyone else act just
like you.' I forswear that's really too much.
-
When I was in Room 419 for those three years of
madness, the guy from the State would come once
a month, asking me the same questions and asking if
I felt ready for release. It was quite a game. I made
stories up, and then requests. I asked for his daughter's
hand in marriage, but then I added 'Not really; it's not
her hand I'm seeking - I want the whole entire bunch
of her, Sir!' He marked me down as 'Incipient repeater,
hardened of foibles, incorrigible recluse.' And then he
added this deadly caveat : 'Contagious.'
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