NOT A SHRED OF INTERVIEW
Shoelaces are untied again. Nothing's gone over
the falls. Me and Marilyn doing Niagara together,
and oh that mist! This dark fellow, drives a 1953
DeSoto over to see us - smokes like a chimney.
Oh, yeah, the car does too. She jumps in, in a
red negligee that the mist has turned clear. I can
see over pore on her body. 'Not much for
uncharted territory there, Misters Lewis and
Clark.' I muttered that to myself.
-
If an interview is an exchange between two, then
a monoview has got to be this : just me, muttering
to myself. The backtalk of a simple sage, the
soundings of a sickened age.
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