The cinema of your spirit remembering the strange fruit. All long turns of bus. . astute unworthinesses. The fatty abuses a banality in America of F.D.R.’ S and Truman and Ike and knew you this cooking taste of the bitterness. Secret entries. Lanes of bad-breath. With felt the stink of the small-occupied cities. Your head is now a McNally rand of racist cities. But you are held there. Your tears threatening to die out the song to set fire to in your throat. With the music travelling by you. . as a spirit which does not haunt gently about yoursoul. and of the OH! Applause! Cheer! Applause! You leave them always more wanting. Their attack of hands, drawing with the fragile pieces of you. When all which you want to do is to try to remain intact and with the background the essential ritual starts.
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