At this hour before the dawn the sky over New York's empty streets is velvet blue.
It's Sunday and my greatest fear is that the radio will go religious.
I hated Sundays as a child.
For two reasons.
Firstly I was an atheist.
And secondly Sunday were followed by Monday, a school day.
As a teenager I attended Mass with my family.
My mother was a devout Catholic.
I didn't mind too much.
Pretty girls went to the 9:30 Mass, but they were all virgins and in the 1960s virgins were well-informed by the nuns about what awaited them in the presence of a male.
The loss of their purity.
LATER
CBGBs was fun and I could have gone home with several women.
# 1 on the list was a teenaged girl with braces from Queens.
Clare has soft brown eyes and a high school body.
She wasn't much of a talker and I wondered if her braces would cut my tongue.
I never found out.
LATER
It's getting lighter to the East.
The sky looks clean.
It'd be a good day to hit the road.
Austin or Mexico.
But I haven't worked in two months, so I'm trapped here.
In Manhattan Minimal Security Prison.
LATER
I saw Ann on St. Mark's Place and we went looking for a Doors LP, but they were out of stock in the record shops. We strolled through the East Village, while she wondered how to adapt a Moliere play THE GENTLEMEN FROM VERONA.
LATER
Another rejection for work.
These hits are taking their toll.
My writing sucks.
My typing is even worse.
Inside the shack her mouth opened for my penis. Only a few months ago she had said, "I never sucked cock before." But her tongue on my cock told the truth. Her eyes were closed and her dress open to whiter than white skin, My clothes are on, only my zipper is down. She likes it fine And would do anything to make me stay. Snow falls through the bare trees I cum in her mouth. I zip up my fly and leave the shack. She stays on her knees. I drip down her chin We never see each other again. Not that day.
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