Looking for Malta. Someone to Watch Over Me.

The Fairground in Queens was lots of fun in 1955. There was a Funhouse Boat Ride with clowns that jumped out at your boat. There was the duck shooting gallery where you shot ducks with a rifle. My nanny got me tickets over and over. Yes, I was a spoiled Park Avenue brat. Rhinelander 4 zone. 70th between Park and Lex. Holland style house. I loved the boat pond, the zoo, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art where they had the mummy that Zimmie saw when he wrote — Inside the museums infinity goes up on trial — the women say this is what salvation must be like, after awhile. Leonard Cohen also wrote deep songs — Suzanne and the Beatles too, and Donovan too — and now minds are so slack that poetry just sound like Yada Yada Yada — so I am a ghost from other skies. 1947 brought in my generation, who turned into hippies of flower children. I never liked drugs except I did like gum opium which I smoked a few times and LSD which I tried a few times, and yes I did tell the Navy, when they recruited me. They liked the honesty, they did not care about the long-ago drug use. If you live a life, you experience something, it can’t be helped. For me poetry was key. I began at Cafe Basement as a professional reader of poems. TS Eliot, Robert Frost, William Shakespeare. Today a few people have heard of those poets, and the Beatles, and Donovan.