Kramer's at Midnight
By sweetbrother
Is that one of us with her back to me browsing the shelves? We are everywhere sneaking into normal folk's inner sanctums. She, with the white stringy hair, is sneaking like me. My presence is disapproved; my request for tea is disapproved my watching the bartender's breasts is disapproved... I'm tolerated if I remain under the radar; I'm ignored until I do something dramatic like coming here The sound system booms James Brown- if I could sing and dance, I would be celebrated from a safe distance I perpretrate my presence shyly what if I had the nerve to not give a shit, to order some of those fancy drinks they serve and get LOUD up in here? I can already hear the sirens. But no, that's not me; my desperation is always quiet. She, with the stringy hair has slunk into the night and now my time has come to stand, and go But don't let them relax once I've disappeared; I am everywhere, and stealthy. I will invade the inner sanctums of their minds they will dream of me and wake up screaming Written November 8th, 2001 © on Nov 08 2001 05:53 AM PST 0 • 9
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"Is that one of us..."