So the other day, I'm walking downtown with a young poet named Lor, when some drunks call out to me
"What's up with the red suspenders?" (they are kind of my trademark).
"They keep my pants from falling down," I called back without slowing down.
But they were not satisfied yet.
"Do they mean you killed a man?"
"Not with the suspenders."
"What's up with the red suspenders?" (they are kind of my trademark).
"They keep my pants from falling down," I called back without slowing down.
But they were not satisfied yet.
"Do they mean you killed a man?"
"Not with the suspenders."
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backchannel me and I'll hook you up with some of the poets