Sam and Janet Evening

S a m a n d J a n e t E v e n i n g

Bob Dylan opened his throat and a catcall erupted. Medulla oblongata. You’d better switch your sward to a bass trombone or marry your sister to a corn plaster master of none, miniseries to all was the verdict of the anklebiters Terazzo Sinatra the destination when we sailed into Hoboken harbor she’d leopard drops on her pantyhose leftover from our annual folderol your letter was better than my letter as the tomcat tried to answer the phone indicating we were headed for disaster three miles offshore we hit a fatal squall the crew stood on deck flicking their lighters and the quartet slipped into syncopation my only thought—our tryst in the grape arbor left there, in the rain, without any clothes.