WAS A CLOSET WOMAN (on
PASSING THROUGH EL PASO (on
THE WIND OF EASY (on
MY PERSONAL WANTS TO GET PERSONAL
WHAT'S A BI-CUSPAL WOMAN TO DO?
I JUST NOTICED
ON THE OCCASION OF MY LOVER'S CELIBACY
OUR MOTHERS - OURSELVES
THE WILD MAN OF NINTH AVENUE
MR. L.A. (on
THE SINGER (on
SERGI'S SURGERY (on
FIFTY - AS FAR AWAY FROM ME AS POSSIBLE
lives in the apartment below me.
At least I think she lives there.
I have never actually seen her.
Maybe just her voice lives there
and she moved out long ago.
In New York City no one knows
the difference as long as the rent is paid.
The Singer has several unusual styles of singing,
depending on how late at night it is,
how depressed she is or how drunk she is.
None of her styles depend on whether I want to listen to her.
In her 60's Rock Band mode she imagines she's Janis Joplin.
Unfortunately, she's more off-key than Janis ever was,
and she needs about two more quarts of Southern Comfort.
Or maybe I need two more quarts.
In her Contemporary Pop mode she turns into Twisted Sister
and Liza: "If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere.
It's up to you New York, New York," she screams.
I open the window, "So make it already and move
to another building!"
In her Judy Collins mode she can actually sing.
At least she does it quietly enough to make me think so.
There's an older man who goes in and out of her apartment
He looks like John Gotti.
My kinder self says maybe he's her father.
I wish he was John Gotti.
Then he could throw us all a party and I'd be
so busy eating steak I wouldn't care if she sang or not.
To tell the truth, I think I met her the other day.
She was with that man who looks like Gotti.
Our eyes locked momentarily.
"The Singer?" I asked tentatively.
She shook her head in agreement.
"I live in the apartment right above you."
"Ahhhh," she nodded knowingly.