scene is: upsate/ somewhere nearish the city
you step off the subway and you are automatically
invaded by a smell that seams to yell' have a nice day '
rather sarcastically of course.
if you were to take notice of the sky it would be
blue of course,but coverd in smog and tainted by gray
its 5 oclock now
such is the end of ones workday.
I kept reminding myself to phone francis
he always felt alone at this time
why others were traveling back to their familes
patting themselves on the back for such a long
hard workday they put in,planning there retreats
planning their meals,planning the song they will play
over a glass of wine and a record singing them back into
the old days.
francis kept asking himself what a job was
and why it was nessicary for him to leave his apartment if he wanted
to fit into society
Francis was one of those people that patted himself on the back
for waking up past three in the afternoon\
francis was one of those peolpe with a forgien maid who brought
him his three egg white omlete with a dash of salt and maybe some grapefruit juice,only if it was tuesday
so im walking out of the train station and i hear this womans voice
and shes sitting on t he ground and shes dirty and i think to myself
gross gross gross
when did eastern europe become so cliche?
she was begging me for money for her art
so i pull out a pen and some really nice stationary
i write a few words that say somthing like
'you are more of a prostitute of art rather than a creater'
something really fake deep. but she probably didnt go to a liberal arts
college so she wont know the differnce
oh and i toss in about a pound as well.
g*d, im such a good perosn.
I remember to phone francis
he picks up
our conversation is short because
he has the hiccups
and is busy standing on his head and holding his breath
its pretty hard having a conversation about nothing
under those circumstances
oh well there was a sale at saks tommrow
and i was going alone.
thanks francis,thanks g*d.