BLUE COLLAR HOLIDAY
Wu Gambinos I feel strongly about sanctity & wash With Flex & the oily Ives of March, Nap hoarsely in florid throat tones, Am consumed with Bright's disease -- A love flared yesterday in flushing queens Expired amid diet ginger ale & racy glads. The sweaty nimbus blasting down on The new whatever in the ghetto. You go to those places & you get sick. I was peopling bald love in nightmares To rail against the sterile, the Young Women's Christian Association. My mama told me: your best friend is mascara & you don't have to walk a "mascara," Get let down like whores misled by angels in self-defense magazines -- that sort of thing. I mean last week if you'd watched the Godfather Come down, a blue-maned prince in speedos & somebody forgot the acting lesson, Cried "uncle!" ... Famiglia values -- It's always about recovery isn't it? I couldn't wrestle a broad Gestural field into being, failed a pee test & then they paged me that Irving had been thrown From his Triumph.