sorry brother I
don’t play the bongos I’m
not Jack Lemmon I’m
more Kim Novak in a
turtleneck sweater in
New York snowbound at
Christmas seducing Jimmy Stewart who
should be on PBS living a
wonderful life over &
over until every citizen with a
television set has
coughed up an
extra buck for public
broadcasting until the lights of
America shutter arc & fuse some
New Years Eve close to 2020 &
every bongo player from
here to the moon speckled
skies over hell converge in the
dark with snow up to their
arses & beat out silent
night holy night like code like
words down a wire to a
terminus abandoned in hysteria as
the city shakes itself like a
head of long long hair


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