This last Tuesday before the
rolling stop of jubilation really
knocks me out. There are lights
on every surface, things blinking
both on and off. Some rotten kid
with a toy train keeps circling
the plaza tree. Just around the
bend, another year so set to end.
You've got tits like a Barbie doll
and I can fuck like a Ken. Well, I
think. Maybe he was gay. What I
mean is what I say. Too many bad
efforts go down the drain - all
forgotten, not worth saying.