It always frightens me to see men younger than my father falling like flies.
I forgot who Alex Chilton was, my father reminded me in an email.
The world remembers most fondly Big Star , so I’ll post the well known, but less heralded — not as cool piece, by the Box Tops.
RIP
Peace
Tomorrow will be a day of redemptive isolation. Though no Walden Pond, my place provides seclusion when necessary. The solitude, an isolation of convenience created by the forecast of downpours and flooding, will be welcome. The week has been busy, and this evening I ate something that didn’t quite agree with me.
That’s tomorrow. Today is Old …
kiss me clean
no,
don’t lick
kiss me clean
yes,
that’s it
—
lick me clean
no,
don’t kiss
lick me clean
yes,
that’s it
Over canapés and cocktails,
in fashionable cocktail attire
after paying ten bucks for valet parking
it’s about Darfur darling
the incongruity of this escapes some
life is not just
I am not estranged from that fact
And I would rather be anywhere else
But here today
PEACE
