And long before the final cryA thin taut whisper
Filters down
To ask for one last song.
K.B.
If I dreamt, it was of nothing good. Woke in a coke sweat, muttered,
“Incoming!”
Horror of horrors, reached for Kiki and touched the Bally boots, whispered,
“Och, ochon.”
Which is Irish for “Oh sweetfuck”. Is it ever? The old Jackie Gleason Show, in black and white, he’d begin each episode with “How sweet it is.” I crawled into the shower, got it to scald and burned my way up. Checked the wardrobe and heard the refrain the drugs used to whisper to Richard Pryor:
“Getting a little low, Rich.”
Wore a white T-shirt — well, whiteish — the 501s, and pulled on the new boots. Perfect, which was a pity as that made me so guilty about Kiki. Alkies have to be the strangest animals on the planet, li
