took me years to deal with the fear of that cellar
he was big on psychological punishment never raised a hand to me
I remember the sweet putrid smell of dead rats
and then about five years ago I had a dream about him
he looked so young in that dream, and I realized that I was older then he was when he died.
I suppose the child is father to the man
after that I hardly ever smell those dead rats
once in a while in the mornings I wake to the smell of elephants
those are very good mornings
rest in peace little mikey
in a way he was like john wesley hardin
he never back down from Being a Jew
he once told my rose of san antone she would regret the way she mollycoddled me her baby boy
and years later her chickens came home to roost in baltimore
I have heard that we remember everything
and Kerouac was memory babe
and his daughter was baby driver
I don't know much about Sartre
so I don't know what this means
Ala Sarte, therefore all is?
Read The Wall, and liked it a lot
Σ Sigma dots and pointillism