Tuesday, March 07, 2006

"This from a city of parks and whores?"

Thursdays you'll usually find me at Kavarna.com. By then
the bagels would have mounted up nicely

--- they've got a blind guy who sorts them,
after a fashion,

while listening to talking books; The Bride

Stripped Bare

was on the other day; embarrassing

doesn't begin to describe it
--- anyway, I just have to gesture with my stick

as I come by the counter

and the bagel-de-jour is plopped on the plate for me.
These days, they say, I've got a bit slow, so

if you do want to talk about some of the old stuff,
it's a good idea to send me a postcard first

with a title, maybe a couple of questions, and a

line diagram outline, like that thumb-print on your throat.

Bernard Lane

What kind of schmuck writes this kind of thing? My kind of schmuck, it seems. One day, with your mind on something else, you release a child or two into the world. After that, there's no accounting where they'll turn up, drooling and jabbering.
Uh, where'd that thumb print come from? I've got a fair idea where the DNA would lead.
Not bad.
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