CYRANO
Oh Cyrano, that bulge that is your nose just
keeps me guessing. I look at the white of the
ceiling and see pictures : some Neil Young
ribaldry of which I've never heard, some
Wild Turkey in the cup. I remember when
New Year's Day when but gifts of booze.
The suppliers, the other accounts, all those
things we had. Now you lie about everything,
and no one knows what to believe. On John
Street, even right now, the Hell's Angels' party
we're attending has thirty Harleys already lined
up at the curb. The bouncer is a killer and his
girlfriend #4 knows what to do : no questions
asked. I'm a nervous wreck just thinking.
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