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Artist Statement:
p.4
Rube flips in the end,
running through empty
automats
and subway stations,
screaming: 'Come back,
kid!!
Come back!l' and follows
his boy right into the
East
River, down through
condoms and orange peels,
mosaic
of floating newspapers,
down into the silent black
ooze
with gangsters in concrete,
and pistols pounded Hat
to
avoid the probing finger of
prurient ballistic experts."
And the fruit is
thinking: "What a
character!! Wait
till I tell the boys in
Clark's about this one." He's
a char-
acter collector, would stand
still for Joe Gould's
seagull
act. So I put it on him
for a sawski and make a
meet to
sell him some "pod" as he
calls it, thinking, "I'll
catnip
the jerk." ( Note: Catnip
smells like marijuana when
it
burns. Frequently passed
on the incautious or
unin-
structed. )
"Well," I said, tapping
my arm, "duty calls. As
one
judge said to another: 'Be
just and if you can't be
just,
be arbitrary.' "
I cut into the automat
and there is Bill Gains
huddled
in someone else's overcoat
looking like a 1910
banker
with paresis, and Old
Bart, shabby and
inconspicuous,
dunking pound cake with
...
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