if you can´t enjoy yourself-
if you can´t speak the truth
if you can´t breath
if you can´ t be..

lily reads some wolfe-
suddenly,the image blazed
to the structure of hard actuality
another bar..
and all around hoarse laughter
high,sanguinary voices
a sudden scheme of faces scarred of night and
vivid with night´s  radiance..prostitutes
taxi-drivers...and those other nameless,unmistakable ones,
who come from somewhere-god knows where
and who live somehow-
god knows how-
and who recede again into morning
into unknown cells but who live here only,
brief as moths and balefully as a serpents eye
in the unwholesome chemistry of the night..

she says she like wolfe
i read him too
he tells the truth
in poetic words
hard to put down..