boobs, what wonderful luck we have found each other and I am playing to her, I’d better knock off playing these captivating love songs, man, and begin chopping another hole in the wall, from this pad into number four pad.
“Baby, I am going to insure us against further intrusion, by lifting this ax and driving it …”
Crash
“… into the wall …”
Sending plaster and wall slats and nails and cockroaches flying through the air. It is hard work, man, that is enough for today. “Soon, baby, we will be able to move through the wall to my number four pad.”
“Out of sight, man.”
“Yes, but not entirely, baby, for through this brand new crack I’ve just made in the wall, we can now see next door, to a PERFECTLY CLEAN PAD, how wonderful, we will soon be there.”
Chapter 19
Hawkman Lives!
“Yes, baby, we are going to be all right, everything is cool and speaking of cool, let us go up to the roof, directly above, and cop a view of the city. Come on, baby, it’s an unforgettable scene, I can’t remember what it looks like I haven’t been up there in so long, LET’S GO!”
And we go out through the hole-in-the-wall, moving the wardrobe, and fight our way across number two pad and out the door. Down the hallway is a staircase to the roof, and we climb the steps and kick open the roof door, and step out, onto the rooftop.
“Dig, baby, the skyline, with swooping seagulls, and over there is the East River, maybe I’ll buy a canoe. And over here, baby, is a piece of artwork, produced by a local primitive. Dig the huge drawing of the big yellow bird.” We cross the roof, and view the painting, of a great winged bird traced on the rooftop and beneath it, written in huge yellow letters, the name
HAWKMAN
“Roof art, baby, worth a fortune. Hawkman, the Puerto Rican kid who wanted to fly.” I’m far-out, man, looking out over the rooftops, like Hawkman himself, and I am flying, man, to the big clock in the distant tower which says EIGHT O’CLOCK?
“I’ve got to get to rehearsal, baby, I’ve got to– ”
Just stand here, man, and let your vision sweep far up to the great Manhattan buildings, rising up in the dust and soot. Horse Badorties, man, having a taste of good old samadhi, feeling like the Dalai Lama. Once knew a woman who thought samadhi was a town in Ohio. Samadhi, Ohio man, oneness with the contemplated object, whose energies stream forth as subject and object become one in rapture as, in this case, man, I have become one with the clock tower. EIGHT O’CLOCK, man, I’ve got to get the fuck out of this rapturous blissful state of oneness and get my ass in seventh gear, over to the church without further blissfulness of spirit.
“OK, baby, I am splitting. Take care of my pads for me and help yourself to any valuable precious objects you find. I’ll see you later.”
It would be better and faster all around, man, if I went down by this fire escape, thus avoiding the landlord. Here I go down the creaking dangerous falling-apart fire escape, past my number two pad, man, where I must first open the window and stop in and get my umbrella and satchel. Where are they, man, buried somewhere, must change my shoes, read a book, eat something, get out of here, man, do not get hung-up. Alright, man, I’m trying to. Who is that at the door? It is the chick, man, coming back in.
“Right, baby, I’m just leaving, there is my satchel on top of tin-can mountain, watch out, baby, tin cans are falling down all around into new artistic patterns, and here is my umbrella in the bathtub, and I am taking off out the window and down the fire escape, so long.”
Going, I am going, creak creak … down … down … down…
There goes the weird guy. Here he is back again, sticking his head in the window.
“Leave this window open, baby, to air the place out. So long … so long … man… .”
Creak… creak
There he goes again, down the fire escape. Weirdest guy I ever saw, looks like he just crawled out of
“Baby, I am going to insure us against further intrusion, by lifting this ax and driving it …”
Crash
“… into the wall …”
Sending plaster and wall slats and nails and cockroaches flying through the air. It is hard work, man, that is enough for today. “Soon, baby, we will be able to move through the wall to my number four pad.”
“Out of sight, man.”
“Yes, but not entirely, baby, for through this brand new crack I’ve just made in the wall, we can now see next door, to a PERFECTLY CLEAN PAD, how wonderful, we will soon be there.”
Chapter 19
Hawkman Lives!
“Yes, baby, we are going to be all right, everything is cool and speaking of cool, let us go up to the roof, directly above, and cop a view of the city. Come on, baby, it’s an unforgettable scene, I can’t remember what it looks like I haven’t been up there in so long, LET’S GO!”
And we go out through the hole-in-the-wall, moving the wardrobe, and fight our way across number two pad and out the door. Down the hallway is a staircase to the roof, and we climb the steps and kick open the roof door, and step out, onto the rooftop.
“Dig, baby, the skyline, with swooping seagulls, and over there is the East River, maybe I’ll buy a canoe. And over here, baby, is a piece of artwork, produced by a local primitive. Dig the huge drawing of the big yellow bird.” We cross the roof, and view the painting, of a great winged bird traced on the rooftop and beneath it, written in huge yellow letters, the name
HAWKMAN
“Roof art, baby, worth a fortune. Hawkman, the Puerto Rican kid who wanted to fly.” I’m far-out, man, looking out over the rooftops, like Hawkman himself, and I am flying, man, to the big clock in the distant tower which says EIGHT O’CLOCK?
“I’ve got to get to rehearsal, baby, I’ve got to– ”
Just stand here, man, and let your vision sweep far up to the great Manhattan buildings, rising up in the dust and soot. Horse Badorties, man, having a taste of good old samadhi, feeling like the Dalai Lama. Once knew a woman who thought samadhi was a town in Ohio. Samadhi, Ohio man, oneness with the contemplated object, whose energies stream forth as subject and object become one in rapture as, in this case, man, I have become one with the clock tower. EIGHT O’CLOCK, man, I’ve got to get the fuck out of this rapturous blissful state of oneness and get my ass in seventh gear, over to the church without further blissfulness of spirit.
“OK, baby, I am splitting. Take care of my pads for me and help yourself to any valuable precious objects you find. I’ll see you later.”
It would be better and faster all around, man, if I went down by this fire escape, thus avoiding the landlord. Here I go down the creaking dangerous falling-apart fire escape, past my number two pad, man, where I must first open the window and stop in and get my umbrella and satchel. Where are they, man, buried somewhere, must change my shoes, read a book, eat something, get out of here, man, do not get hung-up. Alright, man, I’m trying to. Who is that at the door? It is the chick, man, coming back in.
“Right, baby, I’m just leaving, there is my satchel on top of tin-can mountain, watch out, baby, tin cans are falling down all around into new artistic patterns, and here is my umbrella in the bathtub, and I am taking off out the window and down the fire escape, so long.”
Going, I am going, creak creak … down … down … down…
There goes the weird guy. Here he is back again, sticking his head in the window.
“Leave this window open, baby, to air the place out. So long … so long … man… .”
Creak… creak
There he goes again, down the fire escape. Weirdest guy I ever saw, looks like he just crawled out of
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