Once I undressed a tree, got a splinter in my thumb and decided that was it for one night stands.
The woman next door who dresses in clothes that make her look like the English countryside keeps yelling at her son about being spoiled.
I wish I could help him, tell her of course he’s spoiled it’s hot out so she should keep him in a room with the a.c. on. It would keep him fresh longer or at least as long as a quart of milk.
I rent a small studio in the tenement building next door that looks like Lou Reed. I’ve lived here for awhile and have no plans of moving. There really isn’t any point now that I know this neighborhood so well I can recite any street by heart to anyone who will listen.