(Clam City News ed. note -- for some reason unfathomed by us Ricky says this poem reminds him of Larry.)Marge Simon
The Cross-Eyed Hippie Died For Me Silver spoons
flip over the moon
while the shademan
plays my tunes
to black-eyed girls
in snakeskin shirts
and heavy lidded lies.Wake up with an empty head,
some kind of ugly in my bed
from I don't remember where.So we pass the time
with a snowy line
on broken glass.She tells me I'm a legend,
but I've forgotten why.Background by Joey Dragon