MY HEADLINE IS
A DOUBTING MINUTE
Somehow I made it to Coconut Grove. The
Smothers Brothers were there; the skinny one
was pretty drunk, or so it seemed to me. This
was a long time ago - I sat down to just look
around, and the waiter brought a tray. Right away,
I thought of Procol Harum, and that crazy song
of theirs, but then I confused that one with the
one about the cake melting in the rain. MacArthur
Park is melting in the dark all the sweet green
icing running down...What the hell was that about?
My mind started running circles around the idea
of temporality and my own very presence. If I sat
here like this, I wondered, could I still be seen
somewhere else? If so, like the physicist guy had
been telling me, wouldn't that wreak havoc with
the legal profession and - pretty much - do away
with the need for any alibi. 'Well, yeah, I was there,
but I was also there, so who you gonna' believe?
The judge just pounded his gavel and said, 'Please!'