LOOK HOMEWARD, ANGEL
I could sit up all night, I realize, and
be just like a Dr. Feelgood who cares
about nothing at all. I could spend my
life going to library sales and streetcorner
rummage tables, talking with strangers on a
screwed-up train-ride, or buy two bananas for
eighty-five cents from some swami guy with
his vegetable cart. Stuff like that just bugs
me - if I saw this guy with a hypodermic
needle, anywhere near my bananas, I'd
figure the new fatwa was out after me -
'to poison his bananas or anything he eats.'
Some jerk-off going straight to Heaven and
his seventy-seven virgins, for killing me.
It's all I can say; it's all I can see.
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