FOUR O'CLOCK ROCK
Harmless attitudes remain harmless
until something vital breaks, and
then they become monstrous
attributes of mayhem and dismay.
I'm not the kind of guy who sets
a clock by what is proper, but, in
the same way that a valet may
brush a suit, I stand sentinel
and ready to help.
-
The St. Regis Hotel kept rooms
for people like me : way before
fancy hotels degenerated into
welfare-shambles hosted by the
city. But we mostly had to pay by
the day. At least not by the hour.
-
Girls turning tricks at all moments
of the day, then lingering outside
or stalking the hallways for someone
to pay - some jaybird Negroid in
a 30-foot car, and with a top-hat
and feathers to boot. Pimps on the
appointed rounds; collectors plying
their doleful notions.
-
It seemed there was always something
going on, or breaking down : the dead
guy, found in Room 121E. The girl in
the stairwell, comatose from her OD.
It always seemed like four o'clock rock,
to me.
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