YOU ARE
You are seemingly sorry, for what? For me?
Don't be. Like Al Pacino, I'm alive in Sneden's
Landing, living with a famous girl. We drink
vain Margarita's on the deck - seeing the
Hudson swirl.
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My latest thing, a Range Rover Sport Deluxe,
sits sideways on the padded carport. I parked it
there myself - for Robert to take care of, change
the fluids, gloss the coat, just make it sure.
I'm due in Vermont on Tuesday morn.
-
After that, there is no more. I've got - not
yet - no schedule posted. perhaps I'll do a
local talk show, one of those with a caravan
of clowns who are always laughing and making
light of ills. Bob Hope, like that, stupid stuff,
and I quote : "I just heard the Statue of Liberty
has AIDS, but she doesn't know if she got it from
the mouth of the Hudson or the Staten Island Fairy.'
-
Stupid shit he was, I hated that guy. And people applauded
his ring-necked pomposity - even went to Vietnam and
played his coastal snuff before the insane, breaking
soldiers - no brooding, just being an ass. Sex jokes
and innuendos on the eve of everyone's death - out
there, the soldier crowd, probably in a ratio of
four to one, survival. Anne Margret's breasts too.
-
Amazing the things we put up with, truly.
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