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/12/ it takes energy to be an idiot


        it was sad when that great ship went down -- in the prison cell i sit -- missing in action, so to speak -- i'll be dreaming of you fox trot -- it's living done to perfection -- and even though you are not here i still feel fine -- cause i've still go the old songs  -- they've given me an old Edison wind-up photograph -- and now i spend all the lonely hours listening to the knickerbocker quartet, elizabeth spencer, the blue ridge mountaineer, glen ellison, manuel romain, jos. knecht's waldorf-astoria dance orchestra, others --


        why don't you come back home again? -- we've waited for you for many years -- i'm an extinct species -- words and pictures to grow by -- i'll swim home to you -- i've had nothing but heartaches and tears --


        i don't care so much about these interiors -- i have things in perspective now -- and i want you to marry me whenever if ever i get out of here -- oh please say you will -- it will give me the strength to carry on -- the old songs are fine -- but the void is widening -- and i don't know how much longer they can fill it up -- write me a letter or a get-well card -- anything -- it takes energy to be an idiot --





Perfect and silent. Plain, and insignificant, yet your are aware of its being there only because you wish it weren't. A sand pile at its base gives its mystery, mainly the nervous serenity it offshoots. Is there a way to talk to it? Will it answer back. Nobody's willing to try and see. They laugh and put it in a corner where they think it should be, and wants to be.


        Glover fields quietly still there, they remark a hollow vibrance when the time is right for them. The kid gloves got stepped aside, when its uses are fulfilled there are no purposes for it being there on its lively pedestal, pure tracks solitude, it joins the mass lassitudes.


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