old chums in chicago

i had long suspected cousin mark of murdering grandmother. wishing to get to the bottom of the matter i requested a leave of absence during the christmas holiday and journeyed back to the cedars, an undertaking i found quite lacking in stirring up nostalgic memories. by good fortune cousin mark was away, visiting old chums in chicago. i had a long talk with a gardener who had been in the employ of the estate since the aforementioned unpleasantness, and i prevailed on him to tell his tale. it was as i suspected, and after assuring the fellow that his livelihood would not be compromised i notified the authorities. i am retired now, and live alone at the cedars with only one servant. as i sit by the low fire with a good crackling log during the long chilly nights i often reflect on cousin mark and am drawn to the conclusion that he was guided not by malice, but only by weakness.

arrested

by alabama joe sternwall why are the streets deserted? because a child will slap your face they say i owe the man some rent but i ain’t even got a place have you ever been accused and you ain't done nothing wrong? they arrested me for murder and i can't even sing a song they arrested me for forgery and i can’t even sign my name they arrested me for cheating but i don’t know the rules of the game they arrested me for peeping but i been blind from birth they arrested me for vagrancy but i’m a stranger on this earth they arrested me for stealing sheep but i don’t eat no mutton they arrested me for exposure but i always button my buttons they arrested me for everything since i can’t remember when for preaching without a license but i never confessed no sin they arrested me for rustling but i can’t even herd a cow and for setting a bomb on the railroad track but i swear i don’t know how i never met st peter or paul and the devil is my twin and i washed my hands in a muddy stream but i can’t say rightly when i threw my bottle in the river because the whiskey was all gone and sat beside the waters of egypt with the whore of babylon the road is long and lonely and the night is dark and cold i could go on like this forever but my soul is already sold

bob

once there was a guy named bob his fellow humans thought him a slob even his mama didn't like him much and his brothers and sisters never kept in touch bob would go for long walks at night but was never blinded by a sudden light he was never mugged or accosted by strangers and was curiously immune to danger zombies and werewolves walked the streets but none of them he chanced to meet alien spaceships patrolled the skies but kidnapped other girls and guys he had a television in his little room but viewed it as the voice of doom and preferred, if you please his solitary fantasies sometimes when the weather was hot and his brain as usual was empty of thought or even when the night was cold and nothing in his mind would unfold he would put on his coat and hat open his door and just like that find himself outside in the street without a soul to meet or greet this night was a little different where had everybody went? you’d say, the streets are empty, not really true there’d always be some people, one or two but tonight the streets were really bare there was just nobody there bob thought it was sort of strange and wondered by whom it had been arranged bob had suspected from birth that he would be the last person left on earth the gypsy had told him he was fated and through the centuries he had waited he had watched other people grow old and die but kept his mouth shut, because he was sly and was afraid of how they would regard him if they knew his chances of dying were so slim and now the moment had finally come he thought he heard a distant drum the letters of fate would be unsealed and his destiny was to be revealed raindrops began to fall on his head as onward the street inexorably led he awaited a sign - a light - a token and yet the silence remained unbroken day later dawned in a swirling mist bob was never found nor missed other humans passed by in streams with even sadder and grander dreams

midnight

what can you rip the lid off, when all the lids have been ripped? what do you with the champagne glass, when all the champagne has been sipped? what do you do with the river, when the last sun has set? what do you tell satan, when he comes to collect on his bet? what can you do for an encore, when the last note is played? where will the last raindrop fall, when there are no more parades? what will st george do to pass the time, when the last dragon is slain? who will swallow the last white pill, when there is no more pain? when the last train leaves the station, who will wave goodbye? not the cat asleep in the corner, or the dog with a tear in his eye not the hamster chewing his piece of wood, oblivious to fate or the cockroach crawling desperately across the empty plate when the last man dies, who will dig his grave? when the master ascends to heaven, who will free his slave? not the maid asleep on the mistress’s bed, when the trumpet sounds or the fox running forever, away from heaven’s hounds it’s midnight in st louis, sunrise in algiers the countess discovers her rubies gone, and wipes away a tear the international jewel thief taps his cigarette on his case in the window on the speeding train - just another pretty face

different

different folks lead different lives some live in palaces, some live in hives some live in mansions, some in hovels some in holes that they dig with wooden shovels some only breathe a few minutes, and then die others live a hundred years, and that's no lie some ride through the city on the shoulders of the mob others walk the lonely highway, can't even find a job some men are treated by women real nice they crawl all over them like bedbugs or lice other fellows can't even get kissed and never know what they have missed some women find men handsome and faithful rich, well groomed and properly grateful other poor girls are enslaved by mad beasts who will never let go until they are deceased some folks never learn to read from the wisdom of philosophers they are freed some folks never go to a museum there are some pretty pictures there, but they don’t see’em the world is a deck with a trllion cards that you can’t figure out though you try so hard the chips will fall whether or not you may i don’t have anything more to say

the white dog

by major stafford sternwall last night i had a strange dream, a dream so strange i can hardly begin to describe it. i was walking down a street and then over a bridge and a chap i knew in school passed me by without so much as a glance, and i thought, good heavens, am i going mad - does nobody recognize me, do i no longer exist - and i kept walking across the bridge which seemed to have no end, and i thought, i wish i had had a dog when i as a boy, and then do you know, the strangest thing happened, a big white dog came bounding toward me, the friendliest fellow you ever saw, and i thought, at last, at last i have a true friend, and then i woke up - and i realized i was out of cigarettes. and the tobacconist would not open for another two hours at least. how i wished i could go back to sleep and meet my friend the white dog again. but it was no use. once awake, i can never get back to sleep.

dead man's cliff

some said his name was billy some said his name was biff but they had to pick up the pieces when he drove off dead man's cliff he drove a 57 'vette the coolest car invented yet he came down highway 101 as the sun began to set the boys thought he was a stuckup clown the girls desired him for a mate he drove through town like a conqueror he drove through town like fate the girls rushed out of the soda shoppes and gathered around him like flies and melted like cotton candy candles when they looked into his eyes he said he had been to paris and rome and lived in a mansion in l a his dad was the king of hollywood and his mom was the queen of the may he had wealth to toss like confetti enough money to burn a wet mule he had sat at the feet of wise men but knew there was only one school and that was the school - of love the school of love - and regret for he had had his heart broken by someone he was trying to forget the girls were thrilled with his story they wept to hear his tale they elbowed each other for his attention but his love was not for sale the stars stood still in the heavens as billy made his pick he settled on shirley stevens the others drifted away - heartsick they had to watch as shirley so rich, so blonde, so blasé had the corvette's door opened by billy and watch as they sped away of all the girls who were shattered peggy smith took it the worst when the race for billy's heart began she was sure she would come in first she slunk home to the little cabin where she lived with her drunken dad she had never been so late before this time he was really mad he told her she was a harlot who had blackened his good name and she would have to hit the highway when the next daybreak came peggy lay in the darkness hoping that she would die when she heard a tap on the window in the sweet bye and bye there was no time for romantic words there was no time for palaver it was peggy's desperate prayer come true - it was billy come to save her! his blue eyes blazed in the darkness his spine it stood up stiff "i have come to save you, my darling but my name isn't billy - it's biff there is no time to explain my deception you will have to trust me, i fear but wait for me in the moonlight i will be back for you, my dear but first i have to clear my name there is one thing i have to do just wait for me, my darling, and to you i will be true" he vanished into the darkness lit by a single star a star like peggy's wildest dream so near, and yet so far the f b i was on biff's trail for a bank job up in spokane so far he had eluded them in the night and wind and rain peggy waited by the window until the sunset glowed her teardrops fell like silver jewels alas, biff never showed no one ever knew for sure if his name was billy or biff they had to pick up the pieces when he drove off dead man's cliff