Saturday, June 05, 2010

Lumber Up. Limbo Down

I can't sing and they can't play. At first I'm going to wear a dinner jacket in front of a buncha hippies and an electrician's helper. My girlfriends are stewardesses on the handbasket to hell. Then I'll try an unexplained eyepatch and some sort of uniform like I'm a Field Marshal in the Weirdmacht. We're annexing Bolivia, though.

I'm drunk on Rimbaud while I read the gin bottle. I invented girls wearing their underwear on the outside of their clothes. I think they're girls. I'd have to go to church every day for a century to work my way back to being as wholesome as a vampire. I perform live with dead eyes. I'm from the bad neighborhood on the Sistine Chapel ceiling. We're the default wedding band for marriages of convenience.

Wanna dance?


Bill said...

But you've got to love the late 40's outfits on the back-up singers, don't you just want to peel them out of them to see what's underneath?

Anonymous said...


Damned inconsiderate of you to move. Well, when I drop by unannounced you will have to have clean sheets in the guest room because I'm sure I will have too many Bombay and tonics to drive back to Rhode Island. And send me your email address.