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All my lovers are junkies
Kenny comes down like a kite wrestling the wind, leaping from gust to gust, pushing skyward against the inevitable fall to earth, but always with an eye to the ground, looking for that patch of grass, a soft landing instead of concrete. Even an astronaut succumbs to gravity sometimes.
Eulogy for Times Square (1989)
janey is on her hands and knees
and the room is a chorus
of gutter sounds and flies unzipping