I don’t need drinks today. I have found an old greasy postcard of a clown from North.
I remember him now and then in absence of blue bottles of wrinkled blues,
I think I am doing that now.
I remember him from his coupons, he used to get that from liquor stores…
you gather a certain number of them and you will get a beer for free…
He gave all of these to me you know before he shot himself and painted something immortal on the walls.
Crazy fucker…I went on to get us some good layered rum and he went on without drinking a single drop…
I guess it’s true that alcohol kills people but mostly it stops them from killing themselves,
he knew that.
This old postcard and those coupons all I am left with,
and yes a fuel filling station where he first introduced me to a nice hooker.
I guess that hooker is dead too…she had to,
otherwise how could she live without a pity clown in her life.
I sometimes listen to some good peeled music, sometimes the weight of words are too much
and I think about how he did the right thing,
he was meant for the nightclubs of the great beyond.
Though his coupons are only legacy to me…he wanted me to be drunk to avoid self butchery…
I have just poured a drink and made myself out of his hypnotizing propulsion.
He is dead and that’s the best way he can be.

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Photograph: Google Image.