Going Rogue means you cannot sing so you gave it up if can imagine giving up singing songs only you knew. A penetration of the five cents a copy, absurdly petulant lips rushed white sullenly like an ashen tinge to everybody’s bones. We were your skull. The life you leaned upon, as if poetry, downtown, late at night, the front windows facing the street, Mr. Bad Egg, all wet and drips like winter will move north one mile a day. While hunger took a place at your table, Egg. You are the wind kept in. And we shall see you. She was rich. I knew she was rich. She certainly knew she was rich. Downtown rich, and then, the yacht rich. Men. Fuck. Me. With. My. Jewels. On. Rich. She was a stereotype of herself. The Man In the Moon’s woman of a womb. Often, I was her companion no one could get too close about, Elaine paid my clothing tab. The limo picks me up, and away we went. Cocaine was So What Does That Make Me, her confidant. Easy breezy. You could buy me, too. Rich. If no one loved you. If the entire planet hated you. If Mid-Town gangsters were coming for her sweet ass, and there were a few of them who were, always circulating, always out there, and I am NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY CUNT cunts I Get It, I really do, I really comprehend how it works, how words are used like adult to adult could bounce around the court of the we had better spaceships than spacerangers on a world-wide cruise down the steamboat bluezship, Mr. Egg, and Mr. Egg, you can fuck me, too. Because, I am just with those of us who wanted to survive. It has all we have ever wanted. We want to go out. What The Fuck You Think We’re Not Going Out, what world do you live on, asshole. We are irrelevant to the people we are simply against fascism, Mr. Egg. It’s tubercular. We gotta dance it off in our sweat and our skin, and we all jumped in and out of the Elaine Earth Group Murder Starships On Their fucking way from wherever those starships come from from keep going I am telling you jesus fucking god do not play around with this woman, this is Elaine, Joey. The Crow of Death. Don’t do it, Joey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you gotta get yourself out of here, and take Elaine with you. And each one of them thought they had arrived with all that fucking cash is cash and grab that by your wretched sac you two bit piece of racoon shit.

“Don’t do it. Just don’t.”

Like how did anyone know about the shipments of a submarine. It was simply rented out at an off the charts, too small piece of limestone tidbit goats like crazy, and how did Elaine suddenly show up in her van, that hunk of junk she has owned for over thirty years of Elaine dramas, but this usually is an Elaine drama and no one knows what to do to even go near first you have to go to Venzuela with big bags of money because you are going to need it thank you Elaine Elaine tell me something. Why, Elaine, you were already rich. Rich as shit.

I had been wondering about Elaine again. OMFG. And there she was where else, but the Airport Bar because you you’ve become someone else, still a lush, but another kind of lush, a rich kind of lush let’s just get her home, and put her to bed, bitch, because that is what had been paid for. I was writing a novel called Paris Again. The one in France. Everyone hated Elaine, but me. Everyone who knew Elaine knew the history of it.

Dirt. Fucking. And breathless, Elaine.

“I paid you to go away look at my tits do you think I have nice tits, baby.”

Fuck me.

I didn’t really set out to worm my way into her life. Again fuck me just fuck me Elaine Again. It was the Other Way Around. But we got lost in the nomenclature of dust and time. You could capture with a camera, Elaine in any sort of context, but the implementation belongs to Elaine. Always. We are all garbage from the cesspool we have created and who is going to stand up and say okay, baby, it was an experiment. It didn’t mean sex if he only went in a little way. Some people were so fucking predictable, it’s always in just a little way, and here it comes. Fucking Elaine last time I had seen Elaine was on an island just off the coast of Georgia. I had business in Georgia. I forget what. I just don’t remember. Georgia drips in lizards. I am sure some people just love the fuck out of Georgia. Good for fucking you.

Elaine gets on the back of the dirt bike. Just hang the fuck on. Just hang the fuck on. 

He took a drive with Elaine. It all goes back to Elaine. People run if they see me. They leap into their cars and speed away. Why, Elaine.

No I am NOT gong to fucking know you again, Tim. I did it and I am not going with you sometime down the rabbit hale, and I killed the rabbit, Tim. I did. Elaine did a bad thing but get into my panties one more time Just Get Me To Chinatown. Fran Lebowitz drove a cab. She was the driver in Taxi Driver. Elaine was one of the whores but this scene was cut out.

If only.

I wondered some how much Elaine had been involved with organized crime for what fucking years, Elaine, and we both know why you are doing this was because I had to leave, you could have gone with me, but you didn’t, it’s always business, it’s always business, business is always been a kinda long word, Mr. Egg, quite a long word. Going Rogue means you cannot sing so you gave it up if can imagine giving up singing songs only you knew. A penetration of the five cents a copy, absurdly petulant lips rushed white sullenly like an ashen tinge to everybody’s bones.