daphnee

<object width="330" height="281"><param name="movie" value="http://suicidegirls.com/video/load/8367/"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://suicidegirls.com/video/load/8367/" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="330" height="281"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://suicidegirls.com/members/Daphnee/videos/">More videos from user</a><br /><a href="http://suicidegirls.com">http://suicidegirls.com</a>


we, the artists-

in San Francisco the landlady, 80, helped me drag the green
Victrola up the stairway and I played Beethoven's 5th
until they beat on the walls.
there was la large bucket in the center of the room
filled with beer and winebottles;
so, it might have been the d.t.'s, one afternoon
I heard a sound something like a bell
only the bell was humming instead of ringing,
and then a golden light appeared in the corner of the room
up near the ceiling
and through the sound of the light
shone the face of a woman, worn but beautiful,
and she looked down at me
and then a man's face appeared by hers,
the light became stronger and the man said:
we, the artists, are proud of you!
then the woman said: the poor boy is frightened,
and I was, and then it went away.
I got up, got dressed, and went to the bar
wondering who the artists were and why they should be
proud of me. there were some live ones in the bar
and I got some free drinks, set my pants on fire with the
ashes from my corncob pipe, broke a glass deliberately
was not rousted, met a man who claimed to be William
Saroyan, and we drank until a woman came in and
pulled him out by the ear and I thought, no, that can't be
William, and another guy came in and said : man, you talk
tough, well, listen, I just got out for assault and
battery, so don't mess with me ! we went outside the
bar, he was a good boy, he knew how to duke, and it went
along fairly even, then they stopped it and we went
back in and drank anouther couple of hours. I walked
back up to my place, put on Beethoven's 5th and
when they beat on the walls I beat
back.

I keep thinking of myself young, then, the way I was,
and I can hardly believe it but I don't mind it.
I hope the artists are still proud of me
but they never came back
again.

the war came running in and next I knew
I was in New Orleans
walking into a bar drunk
after falling down in the mud on a rainy night.
I saw one man stab another and I walked over and
put a nickel in the juke box.
it was the beginning. San
Francisco and New Orleans were two of my
favorite towns.