The magazine cover was blowing
around - some guy on a motorcycle
with his name in bold type.The
hippest of snorts now given
over to nothing at all. Just
I'd been there before - knew one
of his girlfriends too. Like a
broken candleabra, missing
one candle for the Chanukah
charm, those lame worshippers
kept coming, nonetheless, coming
on. And keep coming still.
I wanted to take out a collection
basket, to gather the swill; seems
they pay for anything these days.