September 14, 2012

letters #6

ain't through done cryin' just yet, and the crumb mag stood
wreckless wriggly with lines
wasted by the white
     man who
sat dumbfounded by all these damn lips
oh broad and south
                and further lipped
with fuschia staches! give em that kip
wearing white and we stood, out by strawberry st.
the mgr, one of the many (his brother
       who owned it all,
         but not me, hoo booooiiiii
cried out  !  Quyen! the fuck
    with a question lilt
I and Adam Clark who was the then baker,
married a gorgeous woman and had us steaks in w philly
far enough and tall enoughh
but this be paul's, what, third forty, fourth flank
by the day!
the next evening I stood in the office
where a plate of empty lamb bones stcuk out
and pointed to the calendar
and had me a coon8s raise
brother garces, tappity tap tap and he was like whut????
   hahahahahah  machine gunned laughter ratatata myself out
only to find
a left to the body

anda right
and a nudda rite
and a big hook!

               snap!!









                         the nex t shift everyone was sad to see me go.

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