Penny in the river
I dropped a penny in the river, back in the days I lived in New York. The idea came from a song by Ike and Tina Turner. Im Blue shoobedoobe. I could not sleep. I could not sleep in rooms of spilt gypsy rose wine. Not when I was remembering the wind and wondering was it a friend. But there was no wind in the city. And I lived in an underworld there, unable to act. Frying my brain in August. City that consists of well-placed pretensions. I read the papers and bopped around too. I had entered the island sanatorium. At the Mercer saw Ahmet Ertegun with Jackie Kennedy on his arm. And thought: This is a dangerous time for those not chauffeured. Cause it was a city of strange phantoms. Tic Tic Tic. My brain was cogitating. Addicted were the people of night – mugs, zombies, appearing in their time. Walking down the street was cause for alarm. You had to be there. You must remember this: think of your eyes as you look at the police. You will scurry to the door with its per...
