The Elastic Purejoy
If Samuel Beckett Had Met Lenny Bruce
I have this idea of what you never were,of what was but never could have beenopen season and my mind's a blur, ofnothing spoken, heard or seenI'd wash away these ugly stainsbut I need them as Smeraldina craved Bach,as she left Belaequa sitting in the rain,his hands in a jelly in his lapoh, Smeraldina-Rimawhat's your name a-mean-a?slob of a girl? no, Hey,Sammy was droll, hey what a dreamerwho really cares for Sammy's namesof pap and mamelons, or Belaequa,Lenny's stutter couldn't change the gamea needle in the can killed the laughterand he said "be outta here before the spit dries!"
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