D Day
There will be a little flag by the turntable at today’s gig. There always is, but today it will seem stricken as it stands stiff, a tiny square of cheap fabric stapled to a little wooden dowel, and everyone will think something and it will probably be different but nobody will know what quite to do. Except to try to not be cynical. That feeling is an attitude, a posture, an acid that washes the names off of graves and puddles stone into mediocrity. Well, that’s how it goes…
No.
I can remember men I’ve never met but would like to. And think of the Bedford Boys, the local guys who didn’t come home.
I yield the floor.
