A smoking internet chat
She finally signed something, “J”
“oh J” I’ve been waiting for something to call you
Lovely Oh J
that captures the sense of anticipation I feel addressing you
and I guess I don’t care right now what the “J” actually stands for
If you like Oh J, we can stick with that
There were 100 temporary workers serving at the party
Temporary workers from all over the city dressed to butler hors d’oeuvres
A wallet is lost or stolen in huge pile of coats
The young man instantly collides with the ramifications of his missing wallet
He needs to calm down or he is going to be asked to leave
Mohandas, un clench your fist… settle in, we’ll be here together all night
Through some half a dozen cosmic hurricanes I ended up with a stack of Bob James, the jazz pianist who wrote the theme song to Taxi, at just the right moment. Somebody has to be the Bob James in my life. That’s a nice thing to be. Right, Bob James?
The anti racist sailor is Ben Fletcher, because he can orate and handle hecklers. Fletcher you are here.
The Editor in the hot seat I need so badly is Lucy Parsons. Every time you go to press, “we have no country,” over and over again.
The Cartographer, because we need one, no one seems to know where we are… just Cartographer.
It is okay that I ask you to embody these things? in addition to all of the things that you are that I cannot see… it is an attempt to elicit more of what I like and put a few conversations behind us
ascribing you with a nickname like one of these will make things easier for me
If you like hearing me call out to you in this way I’ll do it again, is that you, are you the Mohandas?