There's no Honeymoon
for a guy who lives in a hidden
mountain villa in Montenegro,
but still in all, Eli didn't want
to bring his new wife home just yet.
Ivan was hanging with the bands
fluid line-up as they came in & gave
them ideas for new projects;
the Unknowns had no set written music;
their lyrics improvised & memorized
& repeated endlessly into
reverberating batteries of over-amplified
microphones & studio tricks like buzz
saws & screaming babies ... ...
the sound of the Uks came out as a loud
blare that deafened one instantly & bringing
on the instant forgetting of the immediately
preceding moment; the mind going
numb as the sound took over
& the body convulsed drunkenly all over
the room ... Ivan was seeking
an overweight ******, but they all
seemed to have vanished
from the earth. The crabby old Babushka's
could still be had for a bottle of cheap
***** but for once Ivan had real
money to burn & as the band's
defacto lyricist, ***** came in a can
not only stamped 'Guaranteed' - [       ]|||-|||| |
they were stamped all kinds of ways |||| |
What puzzled Ivan most was why he
wasn't ******* someone right then,
but since he couldn't be certain he wasn't;
he looked beneath himself to be sure.|