by Sal Salasin


Thanks to the magic of the information superhighway, I don't even know
who Sandra Bullock is and
I'm still waiting to watch her get fucked.
Nothing discourages
pornography more than
a 9600 baud modem.
It's important to give psychos the
benefit of the doubt.

"Why did your mother burn your copy of Catcher in the Rye?"
"She didn't just burn my copy, she burned the whole house down." "Why
did she burn down the house?"
"My copy of Catcher in the Rye was inside." You want to circle that on
your calendar with a big smiley face.
Fate and too many pain killers,
my favorite combination.
Factories, assembly lines,
armies, churches and prisons.
Yes,
it all makes sense.

I want to live where
the busses don't run.
Sing and dance and lie down dead.
It's like the love Johnny and I have for each other, like watching
television in
a cheap motel off Highway 6 in Marriotsville Ohio, like
an old man returning soup in a Deli. It's nothing personal but
I never liked you.
You're really annoying.
The next day I sobered up and
remembered I
still had some whiskey left.
"So how do you like America so far?"


Pub. Feb. 1999

DRC