I got on and started

pedaling.

then he was back.

he’d circled the block.

I saw his face as he looked

at me.

I’d seldom seen such

hatred.

then he was gone

down the boulevard

out of sight with his young

girl.

I pedaled along.

I was no longer in a hurry.

to hell with the record.

I had called the guy’s

card and

the girl with the long

hair was thinking of

me.

I had become a

man.

burlesque

Jimmy, Bill and I went every

Sunday.

the place was on Main Street

with photos of the girls posted

outside.

the girls weren’t always the

same.

sometimes one of them

would leave.

then you’d see a girl who

had been in the chorus

line,

she’d be up there

stripping.

or you’d see a girl who

had been stripping

and she’d be back in the

chorus line,

a younger stripper having

replaced her.

there was something sad

about it all.

and it got worse

during the show,

some of

the old guys jerking

off.

the young guys never

jerked off,

it was always the old

guys,

most of them sat in

the first row

which was called

“Bald-headed

Row.”

I liked the comedian

best, he was dressed in

floppy clothes, suspenders,

big shoes,

felt hat turned up in front

and back.

he was really good,

we laughed at his jokes

and antics.

the most beautiful stripper always

came on last.

and once in a while

she would show

everything.

sometimes the show was

raided.

(we were never there

when it was raided)

but when the theatre was raided

it always opened up again a

week later with the same

strippers.

we were there one time when

the most beautiful stripper showed

everything.

we couldn’t believe

it.

“did you see it?”

“I saw it!”

“I saw it too!”

we walked out into the

street in

disbelief.

“I’ll bet they close the

place down!”

“maybe there wasn’t a

vice cop in the

audience.

sometimes

the manager

knows this and

he tells the stripper

it’s safe

and then

she shows her

pussy.”

“then how come they

sometimes

get caught?”

“that’s because sometimes

there’s a new vice squad guy there

they don’t know.”

“they ought to let women

show their pussies,

what harm does it

do?”

“the church is against

it.”

“fuck the church.”

we walked along

Main Street

as young as we were

ever going to

get.

first love

at one time

when I was 16

a few writers gave me

my only hope and

chance.

my father disliked

books and

my mother disliked

books (because my father

disliked books)

especially those I brought back

from the library:

D. H. Lawrence

Dostoevsky

Turgenev

Gorky

A. Huxley

Sinclair Lewis

others.

I had my own bedroom

but at 8 p.m.

we were all supposed to go to sleep:

“Early to bed and early to rise

makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,”