To when we were happy...

Do you remember him introducing us to one Jay Stevens

over red meat, music and some intoxicants -

alcohol, spoken words, camaraderie,

a dimly lit room overflowing with a lifetime of experience collected and

neatly arranged on that shelf against that wall?

The misfits juggled with six strings and stretched vocal chords.

Jim, Dylan, Ginsberg, Kerouac was thrown around with gay abandon,

while the night - that dark whore, the night tangoed with the pacing legs of time outside.

More meat, more music, more intoxicants…

Cannot remember however us leaving or leaving at all.

Perhaps we never left, perhaps the misfits

still sit around juggling those six strings and stretching those vocal chords in

that dimly lit room overflowing with a lifetime of experience collected and

neatly arranged on that shelf against that wall.