“It was only after Eve got hold of the apple that everything got wrong, huh? Snakes started to bite, women to fight, men to paying, and Christians to praying,” said Simple. “It were awful after Eve approached that snake and accepted that apple! It takes a woman to do a fool thing like that.”

“Adam ate it, too, didn’t he?”

“A woman can make a fool out of a man,” said Simple. “But don’t let’s start talking about women. We have talked about enough unpleasant things for one night. Will you kindly invite me into the bar to have a beer? This sidewalk is hot to my feet. And as a thank-you for a drink, the next time I write a poem, I will give you a copy. But it won’t be about the country, neither about nature.”

“As much beer as you drink, it will probably be about a bar,” I said. “When are you going to wake up, fellow, get wise to yourself, settle down, marry Joyce, and stop gallivanting all over Harlem every night? You’re old enough to know better.”

“I might be old enough to know better, but I am not old enough to do better,” said Simple. “Come on in the bar and I will say you a toast I made up the last time somebody told me just what you are saying now about doing better.… That’s right, bartender, two beers for two steers.… Thank you!… Pay for them, chum!… Now, here goes. Listen fluently:

When I get to be ninety-one

And my running days is done,

Then I will do better.

When I get to be ninety-two

And just CAN’T do,

I’ll do better.

When I get to be ninety-three

If the womens don’t love me,

Then I must do better.

When I get to be ninety-four

And can’t jive no more,

I’ll have to do better.

When I get to be ninety-five,

More dead than alive,

It’ll be necessary to do better.

When I get to be ninety-six

And don’t know no more tricks,

I reckon I’ll do better.

When I get to be ninety-seven

And on my way to Heaven,

I’ll try and do better.

When I get to be ninety-eight

And see Saint Peter at the gate,

I know I’ll do better.

When I get to be ninety-nine,

Remembering it were fine,

Then I’ll do better.

But even when I’m a hundred and one,

If I’m still having fun,

I’ll start all over again

Just like I begun—

Because what could be better?”

Vacation

Vacation

“WHAT’S on the rail for the lizard this morning?” my friend Simple demanded about 1 A.M. at 125th and Lenox.

“Where have you been all week?” I countered, looking at the dark circles under his eyes.

“On my vacation at last,” said Simple.

“You look it! You appear utterly fatigued.”