Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up



(I don't trust air that I can't see)

I climbed over the bed and leaned precariously to put the other ashtray in its place on the window-sill. Ashtrays, too, must be placed strategically in order to support a pre-determined arc of smoking - like machine-gun nests, they interact with the topography of the environment in order to command a room, or a battle-field.

(-64? why 64?, i demand. -you know I don't like numbers that divide too easily into smaller numbers...
-they're strumpets, she suggests
-yeah... the way they squishily divide into lots of smaller numbers... it feels so horribly squelchy...)